


Two Weeks Vacation

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Two Weeks & Something... [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard shenanigans, Darcy is the unofficial SHIELD fun coach, F/M, M/M, past Steve Rogers/Darcy Lewis - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:02:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18034754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: Darcy Lewis, unofficial SHIELD fun coach, isn't going to miss Loki introducing Jack Rollins to the All-Father.





	1. Departures

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing!

”When do we get out of here?” Brock Rumlow asked. Darcy looked behind her. She was in line at SHIELD’s on-site cafe, getting coffee.

“Hey. Eager to leave?” she asked.

“God, yes,” he said. He’d kinda become her sidekick in the last several months. He was bored, now that his work as a triple agent for SHIELD within HYDRA was over.  SHIELD was doing a very straightlaced PR routine for Congress, post-Nazi infiltration. Rumlow had complained that they were giving him twice the reports and half the bullets.

“I need my coffee fix, but Jane said to be there at ten am,” she told him.

“Hurry,” he said. “That’s only twenty minutes, Lewis.”

“Calm down, Brock,” she said, rolling her eyes. Just to hear him get antsy behind her, she made her coffee order extra long and painstaking: “I’d like a venti skinny mocha--wait, can you make that a skinny caramel mocha? Or is a mint mocha a possibility?”

“We can also do a marshmallow mocha,” the barista said.

“Oooooh,” Darcy said.

“We call it a Fireside Mocha. So good,” the barista said.

“Oh, my God, we’re going to be so late,” Rumlow fretted behind her.

“Did you want coffee?” she asked innocently. “Don’t worry, Heimdall will totally hold the plane. He sees everything. He’s not Delta, we won’t be left at the gate.”

 

“So, the BiFrost is fixed, huh?” Brock said as they walked.  They were headed towards the grounds with the helipads. The four of them--Darcy, Rumlow, Loki, and Loki’s boyfriend, Jack Rollins--were going to Asgard. Thor and Jane had gone ahead to check that there were no dire threats, wars, or bad moods from the All-Father. Jack was meeting Odin for the first time. “Absolutely, for sure fixed?” Rumlow added, sliding aviators over his nose.

“Yup,” Darcy said. She grinned. She’d bought him those sunglasses and wondered if he’d wear them, since they had a gradient and were a little flashy. Part of her friend job was teaching him to have more fun, so she’d expanded her mandate to include adding fun to his clothes. She might have gone overboard, though: the other day, she’d caught Fury eyeing his new tattoos and the scarf Rumlow was wearing with his tactical gear dubiously. Or as dubiously as you could with one eye.  “Did you bring Stuey?” Darcy asked him. Stuey was her Minion Light Up Talker toy. He sang. In Minion.

“He’s busy,” Rumlow said.

“Busy?” Darcy said.

“He’s watering my plants,” Rumlow said. He nodded at another field agent.

“Sure he is,” Darcy said. Brock steadfastly refused to return him to Darcy’s custody. Which was a shame. Darcy wanted Stuey to meet Fandral and Sif and Hogun.

“It’s an important job, Lewis,” Rumlow said.

“Is Jack nervous?” she asked. Darcy was a little nervous. Odin could be a jerk. He’d called Jane a goat. Plus, she was 99% sure that Asgard had a bunch of retrograde sexual politics. She’d heard about Odin barking orders at Frigga (too damn good for him, in her opinion) and Sif was the only lady warrior. How in the realms would Odin respond to a human boyfriend of Loki’s?

“Eh,” Rumlow said. He scrunched his nose and did a so-so motion.

“Evasion,” she told him. She knew all his faces.

“Did I tell you about this movie I saw advertised the other night?” he asked. “I thought you might want to go see it when we get back?”

“Total evasion!” Darcy said.  They rounded a corner and almost ran into Sharon Carter. Talking to Captain America.

“Hi,” Sharon said brightly.

“Hello,” Steve said, a fraction less bright, but perfectly politely and smoothly. Darcy assumed Sharon didn’t know about the brief fling she and Steve had. It had ended when it became clear that Steve didn’t want to go public with anyone.

“Hi,” Darcy said cheerfully, to both of them. She really wasn’t bothered by it. It was a smidge weird pretending not to have a history with Steve, but she’d jokingly called her big espionage job.

“Cap,” Rumlow said. “Sharon.”

“Rumlow,” Steve said.

“We’re going to be late,” Rumlow said, putting a hand on Darcy’s lower back and half-turning so that her view of Steve was blocked. Darcy grinned. He had an oddly protective habit of physically blocking her from direct sightlines with Steve whenever they were together. Rumlow had guessed that Steve was her Secret Hook Up Guy (well, guessed because Jane referred to him as “Dirtbag Captain America” when Darcy was out of earshot).

“Yup, gotta go,” Darcy said. “See you in a bit!”

“Enjoy your vacation!” Sharon called back.

“They’re going on vacation together?” Darcy heard Steve ask quietly.

“I think it’s a casual trip to Asgard?” Sharon said, as Darcy and Rumlow turned the next corner.

 

***

 

“I can’t believe he asked about you,” Rumlow muttered, when they exited the building.

“Huh?” Darcy said. She’d been concentrating on walking while drinking her Fireside Mocha. The barista had been right. It was great.

“Cap. Asking about your plans?” he said.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Darcy said. “He doesn’t upset me, really.”

“Really?” Rumlow said.

“You have to stop being all worried I’ll cry when I see him,” she told Rumlow. When the breakup first happened, Rumlow would get a slightly panicked look whenever she and Steve were in the same room, as if the very sight of Steve might upset her. It didn’t; at a certain point, Darcy had realized that while she liked Steve a lot, she wasn’t in love with him.

“Oh,” Rumlow said. “Isn’t that a girl thing?”

“Not this girl. Besides, I’m not in love with him. I never was,” she said. “He’s attractive, but it’s--” she struggled to articulate what it was.

“Eh?” Rumlow offered teasingly.

“Possibly. But that was a very sexist assumption, by the way,” she said.

“He’s a famous celebrity,” Rumlow said, as if that explained something.

“So, my emotions are famewhores?” she said, laughing. “Look, there’s Jack and Loki.” They were standing on a helipad. Loki looked tense, Darcy realized. Jack had his usual feral expression, but was rubbing Loki’s back slightly. “Awwwwww, Jack is comforting him,” she whispered to Rumlow.

“It’s kinda cute,” Rumlow admitted, “for an ex-genocidal maniac and the only rabid animal found in Australia.” Darcy burst out laughing.

“What?” Loki said as they approached. “What is the joke?” Darcy shook her head.

“N-n-nothing!” she said, between giggles.

“What’s this going to be like?” Rumlow said.

“Like a rollercoaster, but with more colors,” Loki said.

“You went on a rollercoaster?” Rumlow said.

“We went last weekend,” Jack said.

“Heimdall,” Loki said, looking up. Brock followed the Asgardian’s gaze and scrunched his nose again. The sky looked normal. Just blue. With clouds.

“Without me?” Darcy said. “I’m hurt-slash-offended.” She put one hand on her hip.

“We’re doing that?” Rumlow said, but he was distracted by something shimmery over his head. A second before the rainbow roller coaster hit, he grabbed Darcy.

 

***

 

“Wooo-hooo,” Darcy said, when they landed, “you helped save the mocha. High-five!” Brock was too busy looking around the room where they had landed to respond to her extended arm. It was like a fancy-ass observatory, he realized. Or a weird casino. A very tall, very intimidating looking-man in gold armor was watching them. Wait, were his eyes….?

“It’s all gold,” he said out loud, stunned. “Everything. Even that dude’s eyes,” he whispered to Darcy.

“Yup,” Darcy said. "Allllll gold."  Heimdall was standing a few feet away. Darcy thought his smile increased a tiny fraction.

“My prince,” Heimdall said to Loki, dryly. Then he glanced at them. “Mr. Rollins, Mr. Rumlow, and Miss Lewis.”

“He knows my name,” Brock said in a hushed whisper to Darcy.

"Yup," she repeated. Heimdall was exchanging handshakes with Jack. She thought Rumlow looked a little freaked out behind his aviators.

“I also know where you left Stuey,” Heimdall said, once his attention returned to them.

“Holy shit,” Rumlow said--at full volume. Heimdall laughed.

“I got Chex Mix in my messenger if you rat him out to me regarding Stuey’s whereabouts. I need my Minion back, I miss him,” Darcy said to Heimdall. She always brought snacks to the Warriors Three. Sif liked M&Ms, Volstagg liked Chex, Fandral was all into fancy Rocher, and Hogun, surprisingly, liked Funyons.

“No, I think not,” Heimdall said, smirking mysteriously. “Besides, you are wanted at a banquet with the All-Father.”

“The who?” Rumlow said.

“My father,” Loki said. “Let’s go. You will have to change.”

“Change what?” Brock said.

“Ooooh, this is the fun part,” Darcy said, “just wait.” The four of them stepped out onto a bridge. Ahead, Jack made a strangled sound.

“Are those...flying boats?” Brock said quietly.

“Yup, flying boats, golden palaces, the works,” she said. “It’s like Versailles, but with Shakespearean hissy fits about daddy issues ‘round these parts.”

“It reminds me of the time we took my Ma to the Venetian in Las Vegas,” Brock said.

“You have a mother?” she teased.

“Very funny, Lewis,” he said. Darcy thought he looked nervous.

 

One they got to the palace, they were separated and Darcy was led away to be ministered to by Asgardian maidens. She was used to this routine, but she gave Brock and Jack a reassuring wave over her shoulder. “It’ll be great!” she called out. 

They took her first to a bathing chamber, dipped her into a warm bath, fragrant with oils, and then fussed over her grooming routine, redressing and plaiting her hair with braids. “Don’t you get bored?” Darcy asked the maiden who was buffing her nails so they wouldn’t be all scraggily.

“No, it is always interesting to meet someone from Midgard,” the maiden said. Her eyes moved over to the maiden across the room, who was looking quizzically at Darcy’s sports bra. She looked like she was going to wear it like a hat.

“That’s for my boobs!” she said, laughing.

“How curious,” the other maiden said.

“Holds ‘em in while allowing me to do battle,” she said jokingly.

“You are awfully small for a lady warrior,” she said.

“Be careful,” a voice said, from the nearest doorway. “She has tased Thor.” A robed Sif was standing in the doorway. Beyond, there were the everyday Turkish-style baths frequented by everyone who lived at the palace complex.

“That’s right,” Darcy said. “What’s up, my boo?”

“Boo?” the maidens said, confused. Sif laughed. Darcy had given her slang dictionary as a joke once.

“A few battles, some drinking, all very boring,” Sif said. “Tell me, is it true that the taller Midgardian is Loki’s beloved?” she asked Darcy curiously.

“Yuh-huh,” Darcy said, nodding.

“He really has feelings for a Midgardian? Damn and blast, I owe Fandral money,” she said. “I hate when he is right.”

“Sorry,” Darcy said, accidentally sloshing her water a little. The attendants tsk-tsk’d.

“Who is the other one?” Sif asked.

“He’s my fun acolyte,” Darcy said. “But we don’t have sex, we just eat popcorn and stuff.”

 

***

 

“What? Hey, hey, out of my personal space, lady,” Brock said to the Asgardian attendant who was drying him. She gave him an odd look, eyes lingering skeptically on his tattoos. “This is bizarre,” Brock said to Jack.

“Don’t be rude,” Jack grumbled. “You’ve already yelled at the man who washed your hair.”

“He shampooed mean, okay? Yanked on my scalp,” Brock said.

“He yanked on my scalp,” Jack mimicked.

“If your hair was as good as mine, you’d understand,” he said.

“This is important to me,” Jack said slowly. “Behave, you bloody idiot.”

“I’m not an idiot.”

“Yes, mate, I think you are.”

“I am not.”

“Will you at least try to be easy-going?” Jack said with a heavy sigh.

“I’m not wearing a goddamn toga,” Brock said.

“You would if Darcy told you to,” Jack snarked.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Brock said.

“Sheila leads you around by the nose, she does,” he said.

“She’s my fun coach. You do what your coach tells you, it’s part of having a coach,” Brock said, as if Jack was particularly dim. “Besides, if she made me wear a toga, we’d go somewhere fun.”

“Like where?” Jack said, incredulous.

“I dunno. A kegger. Or a Halloween party,” Brock mused out loud.

 

Once they were bathed, groomed, and dressed in weird Asgardian clothes, they were finally let go. “Well, at least I got pants,” Brock said to Jack. “Are these actual leather? They kinda squeak?”

“I think so,” Jack said, frowning. They were slightly uncomfortable. They had been told to wait in the hallway.

“Hey,” Darcy called, emerging from another door with a tall, dark-haired woman. She was dressed in a long gown, with matching flowers woven into her hair. “This is my girl, Sif---oh my God, did Loki dress you in medieval fetish pants?” she asked, pointing at them and starting to laugh. “He did!” she said, hopping a little as she giggled. “You’re the Leathermen!”

“I feel as though I have missed out on a very good joke,” the Sif woman said dryly.

“Gee, thanks, Darce,” Jack said, looking grim.

“You look great, though,” Brock said to Darcy.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. “Sif is the only lady warrior in this whole damn place. She’s like Nat, Sharon, and Maria, if they were one person and _tall._ Isn’t that great?”

“I tend to think so,” Sif said.

“Let’s get this over with,” Jack said, swallowing.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “I gotta gather up my fancy lady train.”

“You need a hand?” Brock said.

“No, I got it, I’ve practiced walking in these,” Darcy said. “On my last trip.”

“I hate them,” Sif admitted.

“It’s only fun if you do it sometimes, not every day,” Darcy said.

“Huh,” Brock said. “Isn’t that the Warhol thing you taught me?”

“Yup. He said something is special if it’s part of your daily routine, like coffee or good perfume, or if it’s something you do occasionally,” Darcy said. She pointed out different features of the palace as they walked.

 

Sif led them to the banquet hall, then opened the doors. It was a strangely elaborate scene, fraught with tension. The walls were painted with murals and the room was taken up by a heavy golden table on an elevated platform. Jane, Thor, and Loki were already seated in high-backed chairs, dressed in those strange Asgardian clothes. They looked miserable, Brock thought. He caught Jane mouthing something to Darcy. Thor’s arms were crossed and he was frowning at the man seated at the head of the table. Only Loki maintained an air of studied indifference. When they entered, the man shifted his attention to them and Sif bowed. “My king, Mr. Rollins, Mr. Rumlow, and Miss Lewis,” she called out.

“I know who you are,” the bearded one-eyed man said. He glared at them from an ornate chair and did not rise with the other three. This must be Odin. He was looking at them with open hostility. “Ah, this is a new experience. An entire banquet, just for a herd of goats and my two fools of sons,” he said.

 


	2. Don't Take It Personally

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

It was a supremely awkward dinner. Odin kept calling it a banquet, which Darcy assumed was sarcasm because it was just the seven of them. Also, she’d never eaten in this gloomy dining room. It reminded her too much of those British cathedrals were people were buried in above-ground marble tomb thingies. There were suits of armor in niches along the wall! Did they use this room for state dinners, she wondered? She was thinking about Asgardian diplomacy--mostly wondering if it existed--so, she missed Odin’s slide into full-scale passive-aggressive dad. “You are still dragging my heir along on your experiments in inferior Midgardian science?” Odin asked Jane.

“Father,” Thor scolded. “Jane’s work is extremely important. She has replicated the mechanics of the BiFrost.” Jane beamed at him.

“Thank you,” she began, before the All-Father cut her off.

“Which Heimdall could do in his sleep,” Odin said, slurping on his soup.

“Perhaps Midgard needs it’s own line to Asgard for assistance?” Loki said mildly. Jane gave him a surprised, but no less appreciative look.

“Mostly because of you, of late,” Odin said sharply. Loki looked slightly embarrassed and Darcy saw Jack’s arm move to touch him slightly. Jack’s expression was dark.

“He’s really turned over a new leaf,” Darcy said brightly. “He has friends at SHIELD now.” Odin looked at her as if she wasn’t there. He did that with women, she realized. He objectified them, mostly, when he wasn’t ignoring them totally. Thor had mentioned once that his father had told him that he “would be better off with what was in front of him,” i.e., Sif, instead of Jane! Imagine the ego you’d have to have to call Sif a what.

“We’ve got plenty of problems that ain’t him, your majesty,” Brock added. “He’s been behaving himself.”

“Who are you?” Odin asked.

“I run a tactical unit. I’m Jack’s boss,” he said. “I respond to the emergencies.” Odin scoffed.

“So, you have collected a coterie of these naive Midgardians to traipse along with you?” Odin said, turning to Loki. “Is this part of your plan to rule Midgard again?”

“No,” Loki said. “Father, these are my friends, not people I’m controlling.”

“Aye, he has done well, father. He has multiple friends and none of them are self-interested friendships. He helps Jane with her work, sees the films with Darcy and Brock, he is in a serious relationship with Jack,” Thor said.

“A serious relationship?” Odin said. “With who?”

“Me,” Jack said quietly.

“We have been involved for several months now, Father,” Loki said. “It is serious.”

To Darcy’s horror, Odin actually burst out laughing. Loki went a little blue, Thor looked upset, Brock looked at Darcy, who was making eye contact with Jane, and Jack’s expression grew more feral. “There’s no need to laugh,” Jack said in a low, almost lethal voice.

“No need to laugh?” Odin said, slapping the table in mirth. “My poor Midgardian, you are a hopeless fool if you think my son can be trusted. He loves no one. His entire life has been spent in the pursuit of lies. His mother loved him devotedly and he did nothing but disappoint her and break her heart--”

“Father!” Thor interrupted sharply, half moving towards his father. Loki was icy-blue now, but Darcy could see the devastation in his eyes. “Stop,” Thor said.

“We love each other very much,” Loki said quietly.

“You think I’m a fool?” Odin said, barking out a laugh. “Next you will tell me that you want to be married!”

“Perhaps I do,” Loki said, returning to his mask of indifference.

“Do not trifle with me,” Odin said, his sardonic expression turning angry. “Do not make a joke of such serious things. Marriage is a serious commitment, not a prank to get my attention, no matter what you or your brother say!” He slammed his fist on the table. “You insult the vows your mother and I took--”

“Despite your many infidelities and lies?” Loki said, so icily that even Darcy was surprised. “Who was Hela’s mother? How did I end up here, father?”

“Hela?” Thor said.

“You were a foundling, I saved you from death!” Odin said furiously.

“Are we just going to gloss over our secret sibling? I’ve seen the murals, Father,” Loki said. “You cannot hide them from magic.”

“We have another sibling?” Thor said.

“He molded her in his image to conquer the Nine Realms and when she exceeded him in death and misery, he had her killed,” Loki said.

“Get out,” Odin yelled, suddenly furious. “Get out! You are unworthy of my house!”

“Fine, we’ll all go,” Thor said, standing. Jane and Darcy followed him. A second later, Jack and Brock stood. Loki looked at his father, then stood slowly. He was the last to move, but his father called his name.

“Loki! If you think you would be married on Asgard, you are much mistaken,” Odin said. “I will never consent to any of my sons marrying outside of Asgard. Never. Is that clear?”

 

Darcy saw Jane straighten a fraction and Thor’s visible wince. “Shit,” she muttered to Brock, as the six of them left the dining hall.

“I need a moment,” Loki said bitterly, peeling off from the group to walk away.

“I will talk to him,” Thor said. He followed Loki. Darcy looked at Jack. He looked resigned.

“You okay?” Brock asked him.

“It went about as well as I expected,” Jack said. “What am I supposed to do?”

“He treats everyone like shit, don’t take it personally,” Jane said. “Let’s get a drink.”

 

There was a party going on in the real banquet hall. Brock ducked as someone threw a tanker of ale with a clunk. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “It’s a madhouse, isn’t it?” People were swinging from chandeliers, Fandral had two maidens in his lap, and two warriors that Darcy didn’t know were wrestling on a table. It was wild, as usual.

“This is what it’s like,” Darcy said.

“Medieval _Animal House?”_ Jack said dryly.

“What are you celebrating?” Jane called to Hogun.

“Your arrival, my lady,” he said, with an elegant bow. Jane smiled at him and went to fill him on the dinner, Darcy assumed. Hogun was a sympathetic listener.

“He’s the metaphorical designated driver around here,” Darcy explained. “He stays pretty sober. Comparatively.”

“Oh,” Brock said. Then something caught his eye. Sif was throwing daggers with another warrior in one corner of the hall. It looked like an especially lethal game of darts.

“You want to get in on that?” she said. “Go.”

“You don’t mind?” he said.

“Nope. Have fun,” Darcy told him.

“Jack, let’s go throw stabby things,” Brock said, herding a slightly grim-looking Jack in that direction. Darcy sighed and headed to the punch bowl. She preferred Asgardian punch to the ale. Why did Odin have to be so shitty?

 

***

 

“Why is our father like this?” Loki said, when Thor sat down next to him on the steps of the throne room.

“I am still processing the secret sister,” Thor said. “He really had her killed?”

“I think so,” Loki said. “She was not our mother’s daughter, either. Frigga only appears later in the records. She was the child he raised.”

“Alone?” Thor said.

“I can find no record of her mother,” he said, rising. “Look, Thor.” He touched the walls and the murals shimmered and the top layer melted away to reveal an underlayer. Odin on horseback next to a woman in an antler helmet. They were leading an army together. “But from the looks of her, you may be the adopted one, brother,” he said dryly. She was dark, yet pale like Loki.

“I’m sorry about how he treated Jack,” Thor said.

“He means it, though. He will not let me marry on Asgard. I was not joking. I do want to marry Jack,” he said, sitting down on the steps again and sighing. “Just as you want to marry Jane.”

“We will,” Thor said gently. “We can marry on Midgard. I am sure that it would be a fine place for a wedding. And one day, when I am king, you will marry Jack on Asgard.” He patted his brother’s shoulder. Loki looked at him.

“No matter what happens in the future, she will not be there,” he said seriously. Thor followed his sightline. On the wall opposite was a mural of Frigga.

 

***

 

Darcy went over to Jane and Hogun to talk. Soon, there was a veritable stream of Asgardians coming over to say hello. She got to talk to everyone she’d met on previous visits, Fandral attempted to pinch her, and Volstagg hustled him off by command of the Lady Jane. The party around them seemed to get more raucous and bawdy as the night went on. After two glasses of punch, a too-warm, slightly flushed Darcy decided to go outside for air. The gardens were actually her favorite part of the palace. Frigga had designed many of them with Loki: intricate rose allées, beds of beautiful lilies, orange trees, night-blooming jasmine. She rubbed her fingers over one petal, so they were richly scented with the white flowers. There was even a dark green hedge maze. She’d never gone in, but what was the harm, Darcy thought? She was alone, but the moons of Asgard cast a strong, clear light. More out of playfulness than caution, she plucked a few flowers to use to leave a trail to lead her back. She traced around the maze, following her own intuition and inclinations. The sounds of the party grew more distant. When she ran out of petals, she took the flowers from her elaborate Asgardian hairstyle to use as well. She had been wandering around for a while when she heard someone call her name. “Lewis? Lewis!” Brock Rumlow was calling.

 

“Hey!” Darcy called. “I’m in the maze!”

“You went in there?” he yelled back.

“Follow the flowers!” she yelled, turning and following her own trail. She met him near the beginnings of the maze. As soon as he saw her, he ran. “Ooof,” Darcy said, as he grabbed her and squeezed.

“I thought you’d disappeared in his hellhole,” he said, his hand around the back of her head.

“What? It’s a palace!” she said, laughing.

“I hate it,” he grumbled.

“Why?” she said, as they turned to walk out.

“I dunno. I thought I would like Asgard, but I don’t,” he said. “It’s _weird.”_

“Did you want to go home?” she teased.

“Could we?” he asked.

“No, but we can go to my suite and pretend it’s my living room,” she said.

“Okay,” he said.

 

***

 

Loki and Thor had finished wandering around the palace, talking about their mother, and decided to go find Jane and Jack. When they entered the hall, Thor ducked a thrown knife. “Sif!” he yelled. “You’re accosting me?”

“Just testing your reflexes,” she joked. All around them, people seemed to be mid-embrace, laughing, joking, dancing. Loki was looking around when Jack seized him and kissed him passionately.

“I love you,” Jack slurred, in a very unJacklike display of public affection.

“Are you well?” Loki said.

“Don’t you love me? I thought you wanted to be married?” Jack said, looking disappointed. Thor frowned.

“Of course I do, but--ow,” Loki said, as Jack crushed him in a hug. “I cannot be married if you squeeze me to death,” Loki complained.

“I’m so happy. So happy. I don’t care if your father loathes me,” he said.

“What is wrong with him?” Thor said to a baffled-looking Loki.

“I don’t know,” Loki said. He held Jack’s chin. “Your pupils are quite enlarged? Did someone give you something?”

“I had ale and punch!” Jack said.

“Fandral dosed the punch,” a voice said. The three men turned. Jane was standing there. “He put love spirits in there. That’s why Jack is so...affectionate.”

“Oh,” Thor said.

“What else happened? Where are Darcy and Brock?” Loki asked.

“Brock and I threw knives with Sif and then he disappeared. I dunno where he and Darcy went…” He looked around.

 

***

 

“Why don’t you like Asgard?” Darcy asked, when they got back to her chamber. Loki had magicked her up a bag, so she pulled out some things. “I got snacks, card games, and I can order us some gulg,” she said, moving to the bell on the wall. She rang it.

“Gulg?” he said. Moments later, there was a knock.

“Sweet spiced wine. It’s the least alcoholic thing here, I think they give it to pregnant ladies,” she joked, opening the door. A servant curtsied. Darcy waved away the curtsy, smiling, and politely asked for gulg and hot chocolate.

“That’s why I don’t like Asgard, it’s weird,” Rumlow said, when the servant left.

“It totally is,” Darcy said. “The labor practices here are crazy, but whenever I bring it up, people get upset with me, so I stopped.”

“Upset?” he said.

“Umm, one of the Asgardian warriors threatened me?” she said.

“Who?” he said, half-moving towards the door.

“Don’t worry about it, Thor set him straight, I think he was just offended that I implied a grown up warrior ought to do his own laundry,” she said, returning to her things. “Sit down.” He grimaced, but complied.

“I think we should leave ASAP,” he said.

“It’ll be okay,” she said. He made a noise.

“How’d you get all that in your bag?” he asked frowning.

“Loki copied _Harry Potter_ for me,” she said, settling down next to him. They had moved all the furs from the bed in front of the low table near the fire. It was like the living room camp outs she’d done as a kid. The servant knocked again and rolled a cart into the room, then flitted away.

“See?” Brock said. “Weird place.” He poured them some of the spiced wine.

“What are you thinking?” she asked curiously.

“When I first heard about Asgard, after New Mexico, I thought I wanted to go: the warrior culture and the battles, feasting and drinking, it all sounded good to me, but…” He paused and looked at the stuff she’d spread out on the table. “I’d honestly rather go see a movie at the Avalon or hang out while you bake?”

“Have you become a homebody?” she teased. They did spend a lot of free time together goofing around.

“Yeah,” he admitted, drinking the gulg. He winced slightly at its strength. “Pregnant ladies, huh?”

Darcy started to laugh. “What?” he said.

“That’s a cute face. You look like that grumpy puggle,” she told him.

“Puggle?”

“Pug beagle. His name was Earl,” Darcy said.

"I can't believe you were wandering around a maze,” he said. "You could've gotten hurt, wandering around in the dark."

“Don’t criticize me, acolyte, that goes against your job description.”

“I don’t think I ever got a list of job tasks,” he said dryly. He sipped more wine and looked at her over the edge of his cup. She smelled like jasmine.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Earl! https://www.cnn.com/videos/us/2015/07/31/grumpy-puppy-earl-davenport-iowa-dnt.kwqc


	3. Taking Care of Business

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

Brock shifted uncomfortably in his leather pants as they were coloring in their swear words coloring books. “I like how you shaded the s in bullshit,” Darcy told him.

“Thanks,” he said, trying to get more comfortable.

“Do you want to change?” Darcy asked. “I have backup Thor sweatpants?”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Please.” She reached into her bag and started tossing things out: Lipgloss, a few ponytail holders, an eyeliner pencil, pads, a phone charger. “They have outlets here?” Brock asked.

“Loki can magic me up one,” she said. “Ah ha! Here you go. I don’t have a shirt, sorry.”

“This is enough,” he said, standing and climbing out of all the furs to take the grey sweatpants. “I’ll go to my room and change.”

“Just change behind the screen,” Darcy said. There was a dressing screen in the corner of her room.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she said, waving. He looked. She’d gone back to coloring in a rainbow-hued _fuck._

 

He moved behind the screen and began stripping off the sweaty, uncomfortable leather clothing. There were lines on his body, the clothes were so tight. He made a sound of relief. “You okay?” Darcy called.

“Yeah, these clothes are just a bitch,” he said. “Or not a bitch, you know--”

“I know what you meant,” she said cheerfully. “Hold on.” Through the screen’s thin fabric, he could see the shadow of her moving around.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’ve got talc-free powder in here someplace. The corsets are also a big, mean b.” She stood up and came over, sticking her hand around the corner.

“Thanks,” he said. It was a sweet relief to get his body into something that didn’t bind, squeeze, or chafe. There were deep red gouges across his hips and groin. He repressed a groan at the softness of the powder when he sprinkled it on.

“You’re doing pretty good. When Ian came with me, he had a panic attack and I had to cut him out of some of his Asgardian clothes once,” she said. “He had actual blisters. You don’t have blisters, do you?”

“No, I don’t think so. I feel better,” he said, emerging, shirtless, from behind the screen. “Really better,” he said, though he stumbled a bit. She had her back to him and had already taken her dress off. Darcy was in her underwear. She leaned down, picked up a piece of clothing, and slid a cotton nightshirt over her bare back. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. “They make pineapple underwear for adults?” he said. “Wait, no, I didn’t mean--”

“Yeah,” she said, brightly, turning to face him. Her nightshirt had _All This And Brains, Too_ across the chest. “It’s great, right? Did you want some? I can get you some fun, comfy underwear.”

“Fun underwear,” he repeated.

“I’ll write it down,” Darcy said, plopping back down on the floor. “What are you going to do after _bullshit?”_

“I don’t know,” he said.

“I have an extra _fuck,”_ she told him. “I could give a fuck,” she said jokingly, laughing. 

 

***

 

Loki decided it was time to go when he overheard Jack telling one of the Asgardians that kissing Loki was like “ice cream too fast—but really good, mate.”

“Really?” the warrior said doubtfully.

“Delicious.”

“It’s time for you to go to bed, darling,” Loki said. The warrior eyed him speculatively.

“This is bonzer,” Jack said, as Loki carried him through the palace.

“You’re heavier than an ox,” Loki complained.

“Do not insult his weight, brother. Midgardians are very sensitive about these matters,” Thor scolded.

“Yes,” Jane said, trying not to giggle. She failed. Loki glared darkly at her. They trekked along.

“Where do you want to get married?” Jane asked thoughtfully.

“I haven’t thought about it,” Loki admitted. “Where is a nice place?”

“There are so many good ones. Darcy will love to help you decide,” Jane said. “She's great at that kind of thing.”

“Aye,” Thor said. “She planned a most excellent Valkyrie themed party for my birthday.”

“People have themes?” Loki said, perking up.

“They sometimes do themed or destination weddings,” Jane explained. "There are magazines, blogs, and Pinterest." They arrived at their rooms.

“I would like it to be the biggest, queerest wedding in existence,” Loki said. “Just to offend my father. Also, to have a good party. Could we manage that?”

“Ohhh,” Jane said, smirking. “Darcy will be excited.” Loki grinned and nodded.

“Tell Jane about Hela,” Loki said, as he carried Jack in. “She should know.”

“Yes,” Thor said. Jane had stopped and was listening at Darcy’s door.

 

***

 

There were giggles from Darcy’s room. “Should we warn them?” Jane said. Thor nodded. She knocked and opened the door in response to Darcy calling out. “Hey,” Jane said, nonplussed. They weren’t entwined or engaged in anything erotic.

“We’re playing Elvisopoly!” Darcy announced. “I’m winning.”

“She cheats,” Brock complained.

“Phffft, you’re just mad ‘cause you got drafted and I won Graceland,” Darcy said, sticking out her tongue. “He’s been stealing M&Ms all night, even though he always says he doesn’t eat that stuff,” she told Jane. He grinned at her.

“I don’t. I’ve gained a pound since becoming your fun acolyte,” he said.

“Oh noes! And yet still, your pelvis is too dangerous for the Tennessee draft board, Commander,” she joked. “Off to Germany!”

“Stuey told me not to trust that draft board,” Rumlow said, shaking his head.

“I’m demoting you to lieutenant evil minion if you don’t give back Stuey,” she said.

“Nope,” he said. “He’s my boy. We’re gonna do all our marching together.”

“This kind of rebellion won’t be tolerated, Lt. Minion Rumlow.”

“Guys, Fandral spiked the punch with love potion,” Jane said. They both looked at her.

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I don’t feel funny. Do you?” she asked Brock.

“No different from normal,” he said.

“Maybe we missed his adulterated batch?” Darcy offered.

“We’ve been up here awhile,” Rumlow said.

“Could be,” Jane said doubtfully. “If you need anything, the Eir have antidotes in the healer’s rooms,” she said.

“Okey dokey,” Darcy said.

“Thanks, Jane.”

“Oh, Loki is serious about getting married, Darce. So, put your event planner hat on,” Jane said.

“Awesome,” Darcy said, looking delighted.

“You think he’d want an Elvis wedding?” Rumlow asked.

“I dunno, but I’m totally having one,” she said.

“Who you marrying?” he asked.

“Eh, Some Guy. But I’m making him wear the jumpsuit,” Darcy said.

 

Jane returned to Thor. “They weren’t impacted,” she said, frowning. “I mean, they were doing their usual weird stuff. Isn’t that strange?”

“Possibly,” Thor said, looking unruffled. "Loki is right. I must tell you about our sister."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elvisopoly is real! https://boardgamegeek.com/boardgame/40528/elvisopoly


	4. The Wedding Planner

Darcy woke up with a teensy headache. She stretched. The attendants were opening the curtains in her darkened room. “I have brought breakfast, Lady Darcy,” one of them said.

“Great,” Darcy said, kicking away her covers. The other attendant shrieked. The furs on Darcy’s floor were moving.

“A creature,” the attendant said.

“That’s rude,” Brock said, groaning and emerging from the blankets on the floor. He was still shirtless and in Thor’s sweatpants.

“Sorry,” Darcy said to the attendant. “He sleeps like a burrito, he’s got such low body fat that he gets cold,” Darcy explained.

“It’s not like this floor is warm,” Brock said. His hair was wild and stuck out in all directions. “My brain feels like you beat me with a sledgehammer, Lewis,” he grumbled. “You hit me.”

“I did not. It was the gulg,” Darcy said. “The gulg hit you with a sledgehammer. Many times.”

“Don’t say it,” Brock said, “I never want to hear that word again.”

“What word?”

“Gulg,” he said. “I fucking hate gulg. I’m dying. I may be dead.”

“Have food,” Darcy said. “You’ll feel better. You’re not dead.”

“I’m gonna die,” he said. “Just let me die.”

“I can’t, you’re my acolyte, it would be dereliction of duty.”

“It would be a mercy killing,” he said, flopping onto his back.

“You can’t die, your abs are too good,” she said. He peered down.

“You really think so?” he said, poking at them with his fingers. “I think they’re puffy.”

“They look great.”

“Are you lying to me?”

“I can’t lie about good abs. Slut’s honor,” she joked.

“Lewis, no.”

***

 

Loki shimmered into being while the attendants were serving them breakfast. One of them jumped. Brock looked up blearily. “Your majesty,” he said dryly.

“Technically, your royal highness, but yes, I am majestic, aren’t I?” Loki said, smirking. “Why are you here?”

“He passed out here. I gave him gulg,” Darcy explained.

“Nobody say gulg, it’s the beverage of evil,” Brock said, rubbing his face.

“Gulg is a woman’s drink,” one of the attendants whispered. Loki smirked. Darcy hid her giggle.

“I see you laughing, but my head hurts too much for revenge,” Brock said. “You got any more of this bacon stuff?” he asked the attendant. The two of them scurried off to get him more food.

“Yesterday, he was a member of the proletariat, today he’s ordering extra bacon,” Darcy told Loki.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a sellout. I need food in my stomach,” Brock said, scratching his forearm. Darcy admired his tattoos for a moment, until she caught Loki rolling his eyes.

“Enough of this boring discussion of class politics, I need help with my wedding plans. What is the most elaborate wedding you can think of?” Loki asked her.

“Melissa Rivers,” Darcy said. “I saw it on television once when I was little--”

“Joan Rivers’ kid?” Brock said, frowning. Darcy nodded.

“Yeah,” she said. “It was Russian winter ballet themed or something? At a fancy hotel. Sort of Princess Elsa themed before Princess Elsa.”

“How do you remember that?” Brock said.

“I dunno. I was probably like, ten, it made an impression?” Darcy said, shrugging. She googled on her phone. “Ooooh,” she said.

“What?” Loki said, leaning forward curiously.

“Her wedding designer is famous for his floral work. Look,” she pointed to the screen, handing him the phone. Loki’s eyes gleamed.

“I could use magic to execute his vision,” he said breathlessly.

“What kind of vision?” Brock said. “Thank you,” he said politely to the attendant who’d returned with his bacon. She curtsied and disappeared; Brock shook his head. Darcy could see his working-class roots returning as he got less groggy.

“His name is Preston Bailey,” Darcy explained. “He did Serena Williams’ wedding, too.”

“Huh,” Brock said. She passed him her phone and he flicked through the designer’s website photos. His eyes grew wide. “Wow.”

“I do like the one with the transparent glass dance floor and lavender and gold flowers underneath,” Loki said thoughtfully. He looked at Darcy.

“It looked like a French formal garden layout under the floor,” Darcy said, nodding. Loki tapped his chin.

“You will help me translate my vision. I don’t know these Midgardian terms,” he said. “You can be my assistant, as you do for Jane.”

“Sure,” Darcy said. He was shimmering away before she’d said anything else. Brock looked at Darcy and raised an eyebrow. “What?” she asked.

“You’re just going to let him draft you into this?” Brock said.

“Why not? He gets drafted into my shenanigans all the time,” she said. “I should probably subscribe to some bridal magazines…” she mused out loud.

“What if this makes you want to get married?” he asked.

“I’ll have to find Some Guy,” she said. Brock was frowning. “What?” she said.

“Nothing,” he muttered.

“Nuh-uh, spill, Lt. Minion,” she said.

“I don’t know, it just seems like the kind of thing that’s gonna make you have, like, emotions?” he said, raising his arms.

“I have emotions now,” she said.

“I mean, not good ones,” he said. “Upset emotions.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, like, won’t you feel like you’ve missed out? You’re single, thirty, and--”

“Stop,” Darcy told him, “there’s no good way to finish that sentence, I forbid you to continue.”

“Sorry,” he said.

“Aren’t you over forty and single?” she said, realization dawning.

“Yeah,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “What do you think gave me the idea?”

“Weddings make you sad?” Darcy said.

“No, no, I mean, not sad, but you know, I looked around and realized that everybody from my old neighborhood and the guys I knew in basic, they’re all married, they’re fathers now, and all I do is work,” he said, sighing.

“Okay, this is too heavy a conversation to be having the morning after a gulg-fueled game of Elvisopoly. You’re down ‘cause you’re hungover, babe. Go get in my shower,” Darcy said. “We’re going to do fun stuff.”

“Okay,” he said mildly, pausing to sip his coffee.

“Not fun stuff in the shower, obviously. That sounded dirty,” she corrected. He spat out some of his coffee. “Whoops,” Darcy said. “Sorry.”

 

***

 

She took him for a walk around the city outside Asgard’s palace complex. “What are we doing?” he asked.

“Anything we want,” Darcy said. They walked through the market and she talked Brock--a fairly finicky eater--into trying several kinds of fruit. He was enamored of a green fruit that tasted like the hybrid of a mango and a lime.

“You could make a really kickass margarita out of this,” he said thoughtfully. She nodded and made a note.

“Jack likes those, right?” she asked.

“Loves ‘em, why?” Brock said.

“Party drink,” she said. Wedding party, her brain supplied. She didn’t want Brock to get all sads, so she kept that to herself.

“Huh. Good idea,” he said. She had an idea for Loki’s wedding colors, though. In the commercial area, roughly equivalent to a high street, there were fancy shops.

“It looks like Regent Street in London,” Darcy said. “Only with more…?”

“Gold?” he said. The fixtures, street lamps, handrails, and other items gleamed in the sunshine.

“Yeah,” she said. They went into several stores. Brock followed her into the most upscale fabric shop. She looked at the Asgardian man behind the counter. He had an unusual tape around his neck and a pair of small glasses. Darcy thought he was likely a tailor.

“How may I help you, Midgardians?” he said, scrutinizing them. “New vestments?”

“Actually we are guests of Prince Thor and Prince Loki and in search of a gift. Would it be possible to see what fabrics that Prince Loki prefers?” she asked. “His taste is so elevated,” she said, trying to look helpless. The tailor seemed to find that satisfactory.

“Of course,” the man said regally, turning and gesturing for them to follow. Darcy had never figured out how the Asgardians could move so gracefully. They all appeared to glide, had impeccable posture, and made her feel short, klutzy, and socially inferior.

 

Darcy took photographs of the Loki-favored cloth bolts that the tailor brought out to her. She asked for samples of several of them, imagining they could be wedding colors or used as inspiration. He obliged. She stopped at a rack and touched one fabric. “Brock,” she called out.

“Yeah?” he said. She’d let him wander around the store.

“Come here,” she ordered. He walked over and she held the fabric under his chin. “Good,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“I’m making you a surprise, shoo,” she said. “Vamos.”

“No more tight pants,” he whined.

“Of course not,” Darcy said.

 

She had the tailor cut and finish a section of the bolt into a man’s scarf. They picked it up that afternoon, after they’d wandered all over Asgard. “What is it?” he asked, when she came out of the shop carrying her parcel.

“A present,” she said.

“It’s not my birthday,” he pointed out a few minutes later.

“So?”

“Well, I mean, you already do so much for me,” he said quietly. They’d stopped to get more of those mango limes.

“You do plenty for me,” she said.

“No, I don’t,” he said.

“Who came to my apartment at 2:45am and changed my fire alarm batteries when they were malfunctioning because I’m sketchy on a ladder?” she asked. She’d moved into her own place recently, which left her Thor-less in fire alarm emergencies. “Goes to any movie I want to see? Changes my oil and does all that car stuff for me for free? Was that somebody else? You harassed my new landlord until he installed security cameras. We went to that cooking class together!” she said mirthfully. “You volunteered with me at the pet adoption event and you go to all the museum things that Jane disdains as too humanities-centric.”

“Oh,” he said. “But really, it was fun, all of it.”

“Clint was so jelly of our puppy photos,” she teased. “Plus, you cook dinner more than I do!” Brock was really talented--she was better at baking but he was a great cook--and he made her dinner a few times a week, if he was in town.

“You bake for me and the STRIKE guys all the time,” he grumbled. “I’m paying for these lime mangoes.”

“Do you have Asgard money?” she asked.

“Shit,” he said.

“I win, I win!” she said, gathering all the mangoes and giving the stall owner some of her coins.

“Where do you get those?” he asked.

“I’ll never tellllllll!” she said, in a thriller movie voice. “I miss Brittany Murphy, though.”

“I know,” Brock said. She’d made him watch the entire Brittany Murphy oeuvre, including _The Ramen Girl._ “You tried to make ramen because of her movie,” he said, chuckling.

“I’m still mad that your ramen turned out so much better than mine and you don’t even eat ramen,” she said, sticking her arm through his. “It was chocolate tempering all over again.” He laughed.

“I let you eat all of it,” he said.

“This is why I buy you presents,” she said to him.

 

She gave him the scarf before they went to lunch. He seemed pleased with it.

 

***

 

They had a small meal with the other four to discuss wedding-related things. Darcy brought out her fabric samples and then asked Jack to send her photos of his favorite colors, too. “What about Australia?” Darcy suggested.

“I’d like that,” Jack admitted. He had a shy, almost tentative way of looking down and then cutting his eyes at Loki whenever he talked about something he really wanted. Darcy starred those items in her wedding notes.

“Any places in particular?” she asked.

“Let me think about it, love,” Jack said sweetly.

“I can arrange your bachelor party,” Brock cracked.

“Not mine, you oaf,” Loki said dryly. He looked at Jack. “How do you put up with him?” he asked his intended.

“It helps that he’s a pretty one,” Jack admitted.

“Really? You think so?” Loki said, looking dubious.

“Hey,” Brock said.

“I’ve always liked brunettes,” Jack said, shrugging and then turning a beaming, sly grin on Loki.

“Awww,” Darcy said. “You two are adorbs.”

“Lewis, I was just insulted,” Brock grumbled.

“I believe you will live,” Loki said.

“Oh, I’ve got an idea for an Asgard-themed party margarita,” Darcy announced. "Brock had it first," she said, looking at him, "I'm just making it a party margarita."

 

Eventually, Thor and Jane left to walk the gardens, while Jack and Loki wandered over to one of the palace balconies to talk. She and Brock, hungry from their fabric shopping, were still eating. Darcy looked over at Loki and Jack. She could tell they were both doing a little dance around their wedding dreams, metaphorically anyway. She was fairly certain that they hadn’t really discussed it before; neither of them were the type to gush or talk about their feelings too much. “Isn’t that sweet?” she said to Brock.

“What?” he said. He stabbed some sort of Asgardian beef with his fork.

“They’re talking about the things that they want, obviously,” she said. “Being soft around each other? I bet neither of them have ever talked about getting married before.”

“Oh God, Lewis, don’t go all wedding mad on me,” he said. “I don’t think I can handle it.”

“Oh, please, you’re being ridiculous,” she told him. “I’m helping plan the thing, that’s not being wedding mad, it’s a _job.”_

“No, it’s not,” he said. “You practically volunteered.”

“So?” she said.

“You’ll spend so much time on this, you’ll decide you want one of these, too,” he said.

“You think that?” she said.

“You’re highly suggestible. You tried to find Jane a calming app and ended up with an entire library of meditation books and twelve pairs of yoga pants,” he said.

“Those yoga pants are still one of my best decisions,” she said, “I don’t care what SHIELD HR says about dress codes.” He grinned and it was so smug, it annoyed her. “Well, you fixate!” she said,  pointing. “Why are you fixating? This is just like when your crème brûlée was runny and I had to drink them until you figured it out, not that I’m complaining…”

“I just don’t want you to make any bad decisions, rush into some marriage because you want an Elvis wedding, I mean, I’ll go with you to divorce court, but I think it’s a bad idea, you getting into this whole wedding shit,” he said. “You get too enthusiastic.”

“I thought you found my enthusiasm refreshing?” Darcy said, eating some of her Asgardian bread.

“I do, when it’s an album you really love or some new wine or, uh, your Drew Barrymore movie marathons, but sweetheart, I don’t want you to get into something bad,” he said.

“Something bad?” she said.

“Married to somebody who doesn’t treat you good ‘cause he agreed to wear the jumpsuit,” he said. She laughed. He frowned.

“Like I would let that happen and not divorce them ASAP. You weren’t lying when you said you liked my experiments in at-home Dole Whip, though, right?” Darcy asked.

“I loved the Dole Whip experiments,” he said, with a kind of obstinate, little boy loyalty. “Even if you ate most of them,” he said, frown turning to a smirk.

“I did not!” Darcy said.

“85%?” he offered.

“No, nuh-uh, I distinctly remember you eating a lot of that,” she said.

“75%,” he countered.

“Nope.”

“55%?”

“That’s better,” Darcy said.

“What do we have to do today?” Brock asked.

“Nothing, the All-Father is being such a big ol’ baby, he canceled all the balls and receptions that Thor and Loki were supposed to attend. We’re free agents. I thought I could email some Midgardian wedding planners and we could go look at flowers here, unless that’ll make you have a panic attack?” she asked.

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. He was wearing his new scarf and his usual tactical gear. He’d described the lighter armor Thor had found for him as “too shiny and weird to wear in public.” But he was fine with the scarf, a deep olive green threaded through with gold. Darcy thought it brought out his eyes.

 

***

 

They went back out into the city, this time searching for flowers. Darcy had decided she’d work on colors, then flowers, just to see if anything meshed. “Do you know anything about Australian flowers?” she asked Brock.

“Fuck no,” he said. “I sure you will when this is all over, though,” he added.

“You’re crabby,” she said. “Is it the weddings--” she began, when he eyes were arrested by something shiny in a store window. “Ooooh,” Darcy said. “That’s a beautiful parure.”  

“A what?” Brock said.

“A set of matching jewelry,” she explained. “French word. Necklace, ring, bracelet, brooch, earrings. Those look like watermelon tourmalines, but more somehow.” The stones in the jewelry were bicolor and softly round; some of them were half deep emerald green, half raspberry, some emerald edging into pink. They glowed. Some of the stones were set with sparkling diamonds.

“You like that?” he said. “It’s kinda big and...big.”

“It’s Loki, is what it is,” she said. Darcy snapped a photo. These felt like wedding colors to her. “Lets go, in see if they’ll let us look at them.”

“Okay,” Brock said skeptically. Once they clarified who they were guests of, the store attendants were exceptionally helpful.

“We’ll take the set,” Darcy said.

“What?” Brock said, horrified. Even he could see the Asgardian price tag was longer than usual.

“I have a budget from Thor." He had taken her aside during lunch. "As the Crown Prince, he has access to his own funds because he inherited wealth as the heir and some properties on Asgard that Frigga brought to her marriage. That’s how they both live now and can tell someone to, you know, and not be in a financial bind. Thor wants Loki to have as much as he wants for his wedding, since things are...also, you know,” Darcy explained, raising her eyebrows significantly. “I can take these to a wedding planner for a vibe, too. I’m thinking emerald green and sunset colors.” 

“Oh,” Brock said.

“I’ll show them to him first, though. I don’t want to spring a whole theme on them without notice,” Darcy mused out loud. Loki was going to be the picky one, she knew, Jack was more chill. She arranged for the jewels to be sent to Loki, then dragged Brock to a flower shop. ”I can’t believe you thought I wanted those for myself,” she said, giggling. “You know I’m not fancy-schmancy like that. Half my jewelry is from the Animal Rescue Site! Even if I won the lotto, I wouldn’t go that all out. Besides, if I did get married--”

“See? See? This is how it starts,” Brock said grimly.

“I was going to say it would either be an Elvis wedding or a fun warm destination wedding somewhere laidback,” Darcy said. “Before you got all paranoid. Jeez.”

“What?” he said.

“You’d think I was pressuring you to marry me!” Darcy said, laughing. “You keep gritting your jaw.”

“I’m fine,” he said.

“I am jealous of those people who have elephants at their wedding. But do you think that’s animal cruelty? Did I ever show you the video of the baby elephant playing with ribbons? So cute, Brock.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preston Bailey's work is INCREDIBLE: https://www.prestonbailey.com
> 
> Baby elephant with ribbon, just to brighten your day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34EV2mUFcBI
> 
> Watermelon tourmaline necklace, if you've never seen bicolor stones: 
> 
>  


	5. The Delicate Nuances of Midgardian Communication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

She and Brock came back to the palace with an armload of flowers that Darcy couldn’t resist; they’d had to duck into another flower shop during a brief thunderstorm and Darcy had bought a few bouquets to pass the time. For some reason, Brock was a little pouty. It was probably that they’d both gotten drenched when the skies opened up. His hair was all wet and flopped in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” Darcy said.

“Nothing,” he said, then sighed heavily as they walked down one of the hallways. Brock’s tactical boots squeaked. Darcy grinned. He was sulking, but she had a trick for that: she usually hip bumped him because it always made him grin that she was never able to throw him off balance. Half the time, she bounced off him and fell herself.

“Which way are we supposed to go?” he asked, pausing at a fork in the hall.

“Dunno,” she said, trying to look innocent. Her arms full of wrapped lilies, roses, and orchids, she swung her hip against him playfully. Of course, he didn’t move at all and it propelled her, giggling, sideways, against the doorframe. She landed with a _thump._ One of her flower bouquets fell on the ground.

“What are you doing?” he said, frowning.

“Dammit! One day, I’m going to catch you off guard!” Darcy said, laughing. “It’s that way, to the right.”

“Do you have a death wish?” he muttered, bending to pick up the bouquet.

“What?” she said.

“I’m always afraid you’re going to pull that shit at the Grand Canyon and die right in front of me,” he said as they walked, the bitterness of his tone startling her.

“Whoa, my dude. Calm yourself,” she said. “You should know by now that I don’t like heights anyway.”

“Do you have to do these stupid things all the time?” he asked, as if she hadn’t spoken.

“Stupid things?” Darcy said carefully. “What exactly is it that I do that you think is stupid?”

“Oh, I don’t know, that little stunt,” he said sharply. “Planning this wedding. All the damn _Scooby Doo_ you watch. Only stoners watch that much cartoon television, you know that?” he said. “You have opinions on Eggo flavors and, fuck, you’ll probably sign up for a ribbon dance with elephants class if you watch that video one more time.”

“Yeah, well, bite me,” Darcy said. “I’m _fun._ Give me my flowers.” She snatched them from his arms and turned on her heel. “Find your own way back to your own room. And ribbon dancing with baby elephants would be a great class, jerkface!” she called over her shoulder.

 

***

 

Darcy felt faintly like he’d stabbed her. “What kind of person criticizes their fun coach for being too in touch with their inner child?” she said out loud. She was stomping along, looking for Jane--first guess, astronomy tower, second, library--when someone said her name.

“Lady Darcy, do you need assistance with those blooms?” Fandral said. He’d been leaning picturesquely against one of the balconies, but leapt up with an eager grin when he spotted her. Did he do that whenever there wasn’t a war on, she wondered? Just lean around, watching the sunsets?

“Um, that would be great, thank you,” Darcy said. He dashed over. He could do that picturesquely as well.

“The colors are quite splendid. Are they for your rooms?” he asked, peering at her bouquets.

“No, Loki,” she said. “Wedding colors, maybe?”

“Ah yes, poor Loki,” he said. At her confused look, he said. “You have been out all afternoon with your companion. Thor and Loki had a terrible row with Odin this afternoon.”

“Oh, shit. Is that what the thunder was?” Darcy said.

“The very same.”

“Was it bad?” she asked.

“Loki vows he will return to Midgard sooner than anticipated. Thor has sworn to go with him in the morn and not return to Asgard while Odin’s heart remains so cold,” Fandral said. He lowered his voice. “Lady Sif heard Thor accuse Odin of having a heart colder than Jotun’s, should he have a heart at all.”

“Whoa,” Darcy said.

“Indeed. Then the king pointed out that he had loved their mother and did that not count for anything?” Fandral said.

“What did Thor do?” Darcy asked.

“Accused his father of using his mother’s memory ill, while mistreating her favorite son,” Fandral said.

“Really?” Darcy said.

“Yes. Apparently, they quarreled over the matter of Frigga’s true affections next. Thor was insistent that his mother loved Loki best of all--on account of their shared interests and Loki’s sensitive, tender nature as a child--and that she would be most outraged to see his father treat him so poorly and refuse to bless his wedding. The king sputtered denials and Thor dared to suggest that Loki at least had never barked orders at their mother like she was a poor scullery maid and had always loved and honored her as a deeply admirable lady,” Fandral said, lowering his voice to a whisper. “I have to say, I was quite shocked. Though the king has in the past used a tone with the late queen--well, best left unsaid.”

“Holy shit,” Darcy said. Her argument with Brock forgotten, Darcy was still mentally whispering _holy shit_ to herself when she reached Jane and Jack in the library. “Oh my God, y’all!” she said, dumping her flowers on the library table.

“I have informed her of recent events,” Fandral said politely.

“Where are Thor and Loki?” Darcy asked.

“Walking in the garden,” Jane said. “We are leaving tomorrow morning, they decided.” Darcy nodded; she needed to tell Brock, she guessed.

“I shall inform the other Warriors Three,” Fandral said, “so you will have a proper send off celebration tonight.” Jane smiled at him.

“We’d appreciate that,” Jane said. He retreated and Darcy sat down next to Jane.

“Well, shit,” she said.

“Too right,” Jack said. “My father-in-law bloody hates me.”

“He hates everyone,” Jane said.

“He called her a goat the first time they met, too,” Darcy said. Jane scrunched her nose.

“Really?” Jack said. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“Nope,” Jane said. Jack looked from her to Darcy, his expression feral. He slowly broke into a grin and started to laugh. “What?” Jane said.

“Imagine calling you a goat!” he said, laughing. “A kid, maybe. Or a tiny goat!” He liked to tease Jane about being tiny and petite.

“Shut up,” Jane said, grinning.

“She kicks and bites like a farm animal,” Darcy whispered. Jack laughed harder.

“You locked me out of my lab!” Jane said.

“You hadn’t slept in forty-eight hours!” Darcy said.

 

When Thor and Loki entered the library, they found the other three laughing. “Where is Commander Rumlow?” Loki asked.

“Where is he?” Jack said, as if he’d just realized Brock was absent.

“I’ll go find him,” Darcy said. “Look at these flowers, I think they’d make good wedding flowers or colors. Tell me what you think?”

“We can take them with us when we leave,” Loki said, touching the blooms idly.

“Where are we going?” Darcy asked.

“Home?” Thor said. He meant DC. It made Darcy’s heart warm to think that he thought of wherever Jane was as home now.

“We still have a week of vacation, why not go somewhere nicer?” Darcy and Jane said in unison. Jack grinned.

“I’ve never been to Hawaii, love,” Jack told Loki.

“I’ll tell Brock--” Darcy began, before Jane spoke.

“I’ll make reservations,” the petite scientist said.

“Oh, let me,” Loki said, running his fingers softly through Jack’s hair. “I’m sure I can get us a nice rate, just this once.”

 

***

 

Darcy found Brock in his room, fiddling with one of his bags. He was shirtless and in Thor’s sweatpants. “Hey,” Darcy said, standing in the doorway, “did you hear?”

“What?” he said, half-turning. She could only see the side of his face, but it looked like he was frowning at her.

“We’re leaving tomorrow. Odin’s been fighting with Thor and Loki again, so we’re going to Hawaii for the rest of our vacations,” she told him.

“Oh,” he said. “I guess I’ll go home then,” he said.

“Why? You don’t want to go to Hawaii?” Darcy said, puzzled.

“I'm invited to Hawaii? Thirty minutes ago, you called me a jerkface,” he said. That was when she realized the lines of his shoulders were tense.

“Brock, don’t be like that,” she said, coming into the room and slipping her arms around his torso. For a fraction of a second, she thought she might have overstepped. She’d never hugged him without a shirt. But she felt his shoulders relax. He sighed. “I’m sorry I called you a jerkface,” she told him. Darcy brushed her nose against the Santa Muerte tattoo on the back of his arm.

“Yeah, yeah,” he said softly. “I’m sorry, too. I, uh--we don’t fight. We’ve never had a fight before.”

“So, let’s not fight,” she said. “Forget about it.”

“Fahgetaboutit?” he said jokingly, doing an exaggerated New York accent for her. She liked to ask him to do that sometimes. “I dunno, you called me a jerkfa--ah, what the hell, Darcy?” She’d tickled his rib cage.

“I gotcha!” she said, dropping her arms and hopping out of range. He looked at her and grinned slowly. He pointed a finger at her.

“Sweetheart,” he said, “you better run.” Laughing, Darcy ran out of the room. Loki and Jack were at the end of the hall.

“Help!” she yelled, seizing Jack’s arm and hiding behind him. “He’s going to tickle me!”

“That right?” Jack asked Brock.

“She started this tickle fight,” Brock said, leaning into a crouch.

“You are children,” Loki said dryly.

“You stole that from Natasha,” Darcy said, watching Brock warily for movement from around Jack.

“It is not inaccurate, nonetheless,” Loki said, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, darl,” Jack said, smiling in an ominous way, “I think if you start a tickle fight, you’re obligated to finish it. Queensbury rules and all that.” He hauled Darcy out from behind him and pitched her at Brock, who caught her and scooped her up. She kicked and flailed, but Brock just laughed at her, carried her away, and plopped her on the furs on her bedroom floor. He tickled her until she begged her mercy.

“Stop! Stop! Unfair, unfair,” Darcy said, breathlessly, tears creeping out of the corners of her eyes. “You’re bigger and stronger,” she said. He looked down at her for a second.

“You giving in?” he asked, smirking. He had her legs pinned with one knee.

“Bite me,” Darcy grumbled. “This is disrespectful to me as your fun coach. You been disrespecting me all day, talking smack about my flowers and my cartoons--”

“I tromped around with you in the damn rain, getting those flowers,” he said. “I do whatever you want to do,” he said, wagging a finger at her face.

“What do _you_ want?” she asked, genuinely curious. He rubbed his face, looking thoughtful.

“Huh,” he said. He got really quiet. “You know, I don’t fucking know.” He sat back, swinging his leg off her and looking around. He ran a hand through his still-damp hair.

 

He was quiet all night long, even through the evening’s festivities. Jane asked Darcy what was up with him, but Darcy could only shrug.

 

***

 

Brock tapped on Jack and Loki’s door that night. Loki opened it. “Yes?” he said. Brock looked around carefully; Loki wondered if he was getting paranoid.

“What is it, mate?” Jack asked.

“I wanted to find out where I can get Asgardian money,” he said.

“Oh, yes,” Loki said mildly. “Whatever for?”

“I want to buy Darcy a present before we go,” he said. “A really good one. She bought me this scarf.”

“I will help you,” Loki said. “Meet me in the corridor in ten minutes.”

“Okay,” Brock said.

 

“What are you playing at?” Jack said, spotting Loki’s grin, after he shut the door.

“My plan is coming to fruition,” he said. “He wants to give her a present.”

“What plan?” Jack asked. “They’re friends, he buys her presents sometimes.”

“Not a present like this. This will be a romantic present, a declaration of feeling,” Loki said.

“Are you trying to get them together?” Jack said, horrified.

“Did you really think Fandral came up with those love spirits on his own? Fandral is an idiot,” Loki said, changing clothes magically in front of the mirror. “I just don’t understand why they aren’t at it like eels by now….”

“I have a bad feeling,” Jack said quietly.

“You cannot deny that there is something, nonetheless,” Loki said. “They are inseparable, they have all these little inside jokes and activities, you told me yourself that he declared her attractive at first sight. Had she not been engaged in an erotic liaison with that tiresome Captain Rogers--what?” Loki said. Jack had practically choked on his own tongue. He coughed and slowly got control of himself.

“Erotic liaison?” Jack said, eyebrows at his hairline.

“Not that I am regretful that ended, because Rogers would be a dreary individual to have constantly underfoot. Rumlow is tolerable and you are fond of him. Fornication?” Loki offered as an alternative.

“Worse,” Jack said. Loki shrugged.

“The delicate nuances of Midgardian terminology sometimes elude me. As I was saying, if not for the presence of that dull Captain Rogers, who abandoned her because of his equally tiresome phobia of being a public celebrity, they might have been happily together before. How is my hair?” he asked Jack.

“Lovely, darl.” Jack said. “But I wish you wouldn’t. They’re happy as they are. If you med--push,” Jack corrected himself, as meddle was too negative and Loki could be sensitive, “that might dent the friendship. What if she doesn’t want him in the same way?”

“Please,” Loki said, “she gazes as those tattoos of his like she does her favorite pastries. I am surprised she doesn’t actually drool.” In spite of his misgivings, Jack laughed. He’d caught them looking at each other occasionally, too, but nothing had ever happened, to his knowledge. It perplexed Jack: Brock wasn’t the type to hesitate or second-guess himself around women. Of course, he wasn’t the type to have close friendships with people who owned adult coloring books, either. It was an odd, quirky sort of bond. But it seemed to work for them. He was loathe to disturb a working mechanism, especially since Darcy seemed to absorb Brock’s complaints and cheer him up.

“All right, fair enough, but please be careful. You don’t want our wedding planner scrapping with my best man,” Jack said. “Or my best man whining. God, what if she turns him down and he mopes at me? You’ve never met him in a moping mood. He’s prone to sulking, love.”

“As if I could possibly fail,” Loki said.

“Loki, he pouts.” Jack sighed.

“All we have to do is make them kiss,” he said. “It should be a simple matter. This isn’t ruling Midgard.”

 

***

 

“This is incredibly tiresome,” Loki said. He was beginning to regret using his royal privileges to ask the shops to stay open. Rumlow was being picky about the perfect gift for Darcy. Loki was perplexed. The woman was thrilled when he brought her chocolate and had shrieked and hyperventilated when he conjured up her favorite Elvis doll from childhood. She wasn’t exactly difficult to buy for. “It is not as if she has any standards at all,” he opined to Rumlow, who was bent over a counter in a store that sold  Asgardian objets d’art. Loki had suggested it because he thought Darcy might appreciate one of the little wind-up music boxes.

“Huh?” he said, straightening up.

“Perhaps you are overthinking this?” Loki suggested. He really should have bought Jack for assistance, he realized. “What about something Midgardian? One of those dreadful dinging and bleeping phones? She seems very fond of hers?” he offered. Rumlow scoffed and shook his head. Loki looked at the hopeful--and probably tired, he thought--attendant, who leaned forward expectantly.

“My prince?” she said politely.

“He is in love with a very silly Midgardian and both of them refuse to admit it. I am trying to bring them together, but he is fretting that there is no right gift,” Loki said in a whisper.

“Ah,” the Asgardian said, “you are very kind, your royal highness. Their time is so limited.” She gave Loki an over-awed look. It was entirely new to him to be admired for kindness and not at all unpleasant. He leaned forward and smiled.

“Do you think you could help him? I am quite helpless in the face of such indecision,” Loki said.

“Of course,” she said. “Your own style is so distinct and decisive.” Loki preened slightly. Down the row, Brock groaned.

“I can’t find anything. What does she really, really need?” he asked Loki.

“You do not want me to answer that,” Loki said dryly, then caught the attendant’s eye and winked naughtily. They laughed together as Rumlow paced around, sighing.

 

***

 

“What did you get, love?” Jack asked sleepily, when Loki returned that night. He reached over and fumbled, realizing it was an Asgardian lamp; Loki turned on the light by magic.

“Nothing,” Loki said. He looked grim, Jack thought.

“Nothing?” Jack said.

“We went to thirteen stores. Thirteen! Antique shops, jewelry stores, even a place that I am quite certain dealt in stolen goods from the Nine Realms. I have never met a more indecisive shopper. And he refused to tell me why he even wants to buy her anything. I assumed he would at least _admit_ to his own feelings when I’d been to my seventh chocolate shop,” Loki said bitterly. “He insists they are friends! Yes, friends, because you spend hours looking at gifts for a woman for whom you have only platonic feelings.” Loki appeared to be taking out his frustrations on his coat, half flinging it away. Jack chuckled. “Don’t laugh,” Loki said in a grim voice.

“Come to bed, love,” Jack said, reaching his arms out. Loki sighed and crawled in next to him.

“I do not understand--” Loki began.

“You’ve got to let them come to it in their own time,” Jack said, slipping an arm over Loki’s shoulder and coaxing him closer. Loki was complaining about Rumlow’s indecisive nature when Jack’s lips met his.

“This does not mean I am giving up,” Loki said, a few moments later.

“Just let it happen naturally. Hawaii’s a romantic sort of place, it might do the trick,” Jack said, sliding his fingers down Loki’s back. “And if you keep abandoning me to shop with Brock, I might get hurt feelings.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot decide what the gift should be! But it was sort of nice to write something fluffy and sweet, since I finished Kinda Outta Luck a few days ago and it it was DIFFICULT, y'all.


	6. This Is Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos on this one! Y'all are amazing.

They left Asgard very early in the morning and Heimdall deposited them in Hawaii. “Bless Heimdall,” Darcy whispered, turning in a circle. “This is paradise.” They were standing on a small lawn. In one direction was a sunshine yellow cottage, but the view when she turned was spectacular. Beyond the lawn, there a white beach and a turquoise blue ocean.

“I made the arrangements,” Loki said dryly.

“You’re adorable and I love you,” Darcy said, throwing her arms around his belly. “If you weren’t marrying Jack, I’d marry you and be the goat bride. Baaah,” she mimicked. “Baaah. That’s my goat bride impression.”

“Please stop, I find your displays of affection uncomfortable and strange,” Loki said.

“Lies,” Jane said. “He said he missed your hugs that time he dropped in on us in Norway and you were visiting your mom.” Jane and Thor wandered over to look at the ocean views and walk along the water.

“Awww, you wuvs meeeeeeeee,” Darcy said, looking up and batting her lashes at Loki. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ll go start some margaritas,” Jack said.

“Sounds like a great idea,” Rumlow said to Jack, trying not to grin at Darcy.

“A bonzer idea!” Darcy parroted. Jack grinned and walked into the house.

“Help me,” Loki said to Rumlow.  Brock tilted his head to one side, aviators on.

“Nope, you’re own your own, pal,” he said.

“I helped you!” Loki said, trying to detach Darcy, who was doing her best impression of a python. She squeezed him.

“Helped you with what?” Darcy asked.

“Nothing,” Brock said dryly, walking into the house.

“Wait! I need to know! You can’t keep secrets from me, Minion!” she said, chasing after Brock.

 

Of course, it turned out there was only three bedrooms. Brock and Darcy would need to share the last one. Darcy found Brock looking at the queen bed grimly. “This is a couples’ bed,” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “Loki!”

“Yes?” he said, appearing in the doorway.

“Can you magic us two doubles instead?” Darcy asked.

“All right,” Loki said archly. In a moment, there were two beds, each crowned with mosquito netting.

“Thank you,” Darcy said.

“You’re welcome,” Loki said. He seemed strangely put out, Darcy thought. How odd. Usually, Loki loved doing magic.

“Better?” Darcy said to Brock.

“Yeah,” he said, looking around the room. “Clothes in the closet.” Loki had helpfully provided them with necessities. His idea of necessity apparently included sexy nightwear, Darcy realized with a laugh. Thankfully, the day clothes were more her style: leggings, t-shirts, and floaty sundresses. There were even cute and comfortable shoes. That had to be magic.

 

They had a great evening: Jack really did make the best margaritas in the world and Jane talked Loki into trying pizza. Darcy was sitting on the lanai with Brock when he made a scoffing sound. “What?” she said.

“We’re in Hawaii and I’m eating this,” he said, gesturing with his slice. “There’s probably some amazing seafood around here somewhere.”

“We got you your own no-cheese chicken and veggie pizza, silly,” she said. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”

“I don’t know,” he said.

“There’s a yoga class that Jane and I were thinking of hitting in this week. We were going to go to the nearest little town. Did you want to go, too?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said. “What else is nearby?”

“It’s a small town, but there’s supposedly a coffee shop--what? Why are you laughing?” she asked.

“You would find the nearest coffee shop,” he said, stretching so his arm was around her shoulder. Darcy felt him twirl his fingers in her hair.

“I’m going to smuggle Kona back to the mainland,” she said, grinning.

  


It was that night when things got awkward. She had gone to bed when the noises started. Unlike the palace, the walls of the cottage were too thin to muffle the sounds of very enthusiastic Asgardian lovemaking. “Oh, no,” Darcy said, giggling. She was getting her headphones to mask the noises when her phone dinged on the nightstand. Grabbing it, she was surprised to see a photo on the screen. It wasn’t her phone; it was Brock’s phone, she realized, because there was no woman named Lucy sending _her_ nudes. Darcy had to cover her mouth to repress her giggles and put the phone back down quickly. But not before she saw the text in the dark room: _Missing you, sexy._   

 

Rather than mention it, Darcy decided to pretend to be asleep. They would be roommates for the week, so she didn’t want things to be awkward. A few seconds later, Brock came back into the room, picked up his phone--it had dinged again, Darcy guessed more sexts--and left the room. Alone, Darcy had a realization. “Is everyone having fun sex but me?” she whispered to herself. “Baaah.” Well, she consoled herself, at least the last person she’d had sex with was Captain America. That had to count for something, right?

 

***

 

She woke up earlier than everyone else, got dressed, put on sunscreen, and made herself coffee to take out to the beach. It was so beautiful here. She was listening to music and drinking her coffee when someone tapped her on the shoulder. “Ahhhh!” she said, jumping a mile and spilling a little coffee on the sand.

“Sorry,” Brock said, folding himself down next to her. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Listening to leaked Lana del Rey and caffeinating,” she said, offering him an earbud. “I don’t know why she has the best unreleased music of anybody and I just can’t get it on an album legally.” He laughed, probably at her vexed expression. “What?” she said, as he popped the earbud in. “I like paying people for music. I want to reward talent now that I got disposal income.”

“Write your Congressman,” he teased.

“We live in DC, all we’ve got is a non-voting delegate,” she grumbled. It was a pet peeve of Darcy’s; it was one thing to realize DC didn’t have Congressional representation and another thing to actually live there.

“Move to the suburbs,” he said. “I like this song. What’s it called?”

“Caught You Boy,” she said. He smiled at her and stole a sip of her coffee.

“C’mere,” he said, scooting her closer so she could lean against him. He never seemed to lower back pain from sitting without support and she always did; she guessed it was a fit person thing, but she enjoyed using him as a leaning board too much to complain at the unfairness. “What do you want, Lewis?” he said.

“Hmm?” she said.

“If you could have something--besides paying Lana for her unreleased music--what would it be?” Brock said.

“Hmmmm,” Darcy said. “Fresh macadamia nuts? I was thinking of making cookies while we’re here.” He sighed. “What?” she said.

“Something else,” he said. “Something that doesn’t require you to do labor.”

“Chocolate chip cookies, though. Um, I dunno. Plumeria? The flowers? I’ve always wanted to smell them in real life, maybe put a few in my hair so I can feel like Dorothy Lamour--why are you frowning? I do not understand the question, obviously,” Darcy said.

“I want to get you a nice present. What’s something nice?” he asked.

“By nice, do you mean expensive?” she said. She’d sort of weaned herself off of expensive things--minus paying a $1.29 for a really good song or splurging on books now and then--when she and Jane were broke. Just being in Hawaii without needing to go through airport security seemed impossibly luxurious.

“Yes,” he said. “What’s an expensive thing you want, but wouldn’t get yourself?”

“Oh, a massage,” she said automatically.

“That’s not that nice,” he said.

“Are you kidding? I tried to get Jane a membership at one of those places once, it was stupidly expensive,” Darcy said. “I can’t let you waste money like that. I mean, you end up paying a $100 for a massage, once you tip the poor therapist, who is probably making eight-fifty an hour or something, you know all the money flows to the spa owners somewhere…” Brock sighed.

“You’re impossible to buy for,” he teased.

“No, I’m not,” she said.

“What about my unpaid labor?” he asked, rubbing her shoulders.

“I could tolerate that,” she said.

“Good, move your hair out of the way,” he told her, kneading her back. Twenty minutes later, when Jane came to get her to go into town, Darcy was sprawled on her belly on a towel, utterly relaxed.

“Are you okay?” Jane said.

“I think he broke me,” Darcy said, turning her head to look at Jane.

“I just cracked her back a little,” Brock said casually. He was laying on his back, arms under his head.

“You still want to go get coffee?” Jane said. She meant buy Kona.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, trying--and failing--to rise off the towel. Brock had to help her up and get her back into her sandals.

 

They drove into town in Jeep that Loki had secured by means unknown. It was yellow. “I love this no-top thing!” she yelled to Jane.

“I know, I remember that bar in Berlin!” Jane called back.

“What I am missing?” Brock said. He’d wanted to drive, so Darcy let him. It meant she could control the music; she’d weaned Jane away from driving because she took out stop signs when she had science on the brain.

“She flashed an entire bar once,” Jane yelled.

“There were mai tais involved! I love mai tais,” Darcy said happily.

“Please make her keep her clothes on,” Jane said. “She’s like a toddler when she gets way drunk.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” Darcy said.

“Duly noted,” Brock said, smirking.

  


***

 

They checked out the yoga studio first and signed up for a beach yoga class later that week. Then, they did the tourist thing along the main street. Darcy bought a few different kinds of Hawaiian coffee at a co-op, vetoing Brock’s attempts to pay. “This is well within my budget,” she told him, rubbing his arm affectionately.

“What’s that about?” Jane asked quietly, when he’d wandered a few feet away.

“He wants to buy me a gift? But I’m too cheap or something? That’s why he was giving me a massage earlier,” Darcy said. “I balked at a fancy massage. Ooooh, macadamia nuts! Cookie time, excellent. I want to make chocolate chip macadamia cookies.”

“Party on, Darce,” Jane said. They’d gone down the street when Darcy spotted a jewelry shop.

“Rings!” she said.

“Yeah?” Brock said.

“They’ll need rings,” Darcy said. “Let’s go look at these.” Darcy took photos of all the jewelry that she thought might interest Jack and Loki. They had men’s rings inlaid with some sort of deep Hawaiian wood. “Would Jack like that?” she asked Brock. He nodded. “All right, I’m photographing. I love doing this.”

“Have you picked out your rings yet?” Brock asked snarkily.

“Don’t rain on my parade or you get no cookies, sir,” she said. Her attention was arrested by something pretty and multi-hued on one of the bracelet displays. A wrap bracelet. She checked the tag. Not expensive at all.

“What are you doing?” Brock said, when she went to check out.

“I’m buying myself a bracelet,” she told him.

“Let me pay for that,” he said sharply. “Don’t let her buy that with her money,” he told the store clerk. The clerk looked weirded out.  

“It’s twenty-six dollars,” Darcy said.

“I’m paying for it,” he insisted. Brock stubbornly refused to listen to her and slapped his own card down on the counter. They actually started bickering in the store and he brought up all the things she’d paid for “up there,” which seemed to confuse the clerk even more. Darcy told him she could do whatever she wanted with her money and he visibly scoffed.

“What is with you lately? Our friendship isn’t transactional. You don’t need to pay for things out of some sense of debt to me,” she said. Across the store, Jane looked at them in confusion.

“Where do you find plumeria?” he asked the store clerk.

“I’m not sure,” the clerk said, shrugging. Brock gave him an intense look and he actually stepped back.

“Stop giving strangers the evil eye!” Darcy said, laughing.

 

“Why are you two fighting?” Jane whispered, when Brock had gone across the street to ask someone else where they could buy flowers. Darcy pulled a face as she looped on her wrap bracelet.

“He insisted he had to pay for this, he’s been weird lately,” she told Jane.

“Weird how?” Jane said.

“Um, grumpy, sulky, whatever. I think Asgard was a total letdown and he probably misses DC, honestly. I accidentally saw his phone last night; his ex has been sending him nudes,” she said quietly to Jane.

“Ooooh, really?” Jane said.

“I thought it was my phone and got more of a look at her split-crotch panties than I intended,” Darcy said, giggling. “She was very fit, though.”

“How does this happen to you?” Jane asked. She had a running hypothesis that Darcy attracted the strange and unusual.

“No idea,” Darcy said. “I sorta think he wants to go home and get some, but who knows what’s happening between them, you know? Maybe he’s afraid I’ll be upset if he leaves? But if that’s what needs to do,” Darcy shrugged and admired her wrist. “Everyone else is getting some, he’s probably feeling subliminal pressure....” She grinned at Jane.

“Oh, yeah. Whoops.” Jane looked equal parts embarrassed and pleased. Darcy started to laugh and Jane joined in.They fell silent as he approached.

“Guy up the street sells plumeria,” he said. “What?”

“Nothing!” they said in unison.

 

The guy up the street was actually a tropical greenhouse that sold cuttings and plants. Darcy decked herself in leis and was seriously tempted to ship herself some cuttings, had she not been a certified plant-killer. “Curse my black thumb,” she told Jane.

“I think DC’s too cold for these, anyway,” Jane said doubtfully. “Even if you brought them inside.”

“But imagine waking up that scent everyday,” Darcy said. The garden center had an attached shop of floral scented things--soaps, leis, bath salts. She and Jane looked around, until Darcy caught Brock making a basket with different types of monoi oil. “What are those for?” she said.

“You,” he said. “Whatever you want. Your hair, perfume, whatever. They got plumeria and gardenia and tuberose.”

While he paid, Darcy wandered into another greenhouses. They all smelled incredible. She was inhaling when Jane spoke.

“Definite subliminal pressure going on,” Jane joked with Darcy. “Are you safe in that bedroom with Brock?”

“Huh?” Darcy said, mid-tuberose bliss.

“He just bought you a basket of what are essentially _massage oils,_ Darce.”

“Oh. Well, I’m just using them on my hair. No biggie.”

“Yeah,” Jane said.

“Oh, I think he feels guilty because weddings weird him out and he wishes I wasn’t helping Loki and Jack,” she said. “He thinks I’ll want to get married next.”

“So?” Jane said. “It’s not like he has to marry you!”

“I know, right?” Darcy said.

“He’s probably just missing sex,” Jane said.

 

***

 

Darcy totally caught Jane smirking at her while Brock dug his thumbs into a tension knot on her neck that night. “That smells great,” Jane said with false innocence.

“Yeah,” Brock said, sounding all focused and serious. “It’s the gardenia monoi oil. You’ve got terrible knots, Lewis. How do you do that to yourself going from the lab to the damn break room for coffee twenty times a day?”

“I have no idea and I resent your scorn, I’m just delicate,” Darcy said.

“Be quiet, I’m concentrating,” he said. She inhaled sharply.

“Excuse me, don’t twist my head off. I’m not Barbie, it doesn’t pop back on,” Darcy said.

“You’re wiggling,” he complained. “Don’t wiggle.”

“I need coffee,” she said.

“You can get it when I’m done. Stop moving, dammit,” he groused. Darcy could see Jane trying not to laugh. She texted her:  


**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Stop mocking me.

 **HRH Queen Jane of Science and Asgard:** Technically, I’m making fun of him. He’s really focused and intense, Darce. He’s actually sticking out his tongue a little now…

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** You lie!

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Oh God, I just saw Jack’s face. You didn’t lie, did you? What is happening to my Minion? He’s turned into a Mean Minion and I can’t run faster than him….

 

***

 

“Did you do something to him?” Jack whispered to Loki in the kitchen.

“Pardon?” Loki said. He was chopping.

“He’s touching her,” Jack said, gesturing with his spatula.

“That is not my work. Give me credit for subtlety, darling. He looks like he is going to pry her head off her shoulders,” Loki said.

“Jane’s trying not to laugh,” Jack said.

“It is a laughable attempt at seduction,” Loki admitted. “What is he doing?”

“I dunno,” Jack said.

“Go in there and do something, please. This is dreadful,” Loki said.

 

***

 

It got even weirder for Darcy when Jack plopped down across from them and proceeded to discuss sports scores and some new SHIELD report formatting with Brock. She had to look at Jack as if everything was totally cool and normal white Brock dug gardenia-scented fingers into her shoulders. Darcy had to suppress her urge to moan inappropriately too, while Jack was making a more thoughtful version of his resting bitchface at her. “I’m thinking we need to discuss it at the next staff meeting, mate,” Jack said.

“Yeah, I don’t like that business with the header, either. It’s bullshit,” Brock said. “Turn your head, honey--real slow, okay?” he said to Darcy. “I don’t want you to pull a muscle.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” Darcy said noncommittally. She turned her head slowly and he rubbed her neck while he and Jack talked about some forthcoming system update and how that would probably screw up all the report submissions for a week. They were just talking normally, as she sat there and he touched a super sensitive spot behind her ear. Darcy realized this must be how monkeys at the zoo felt.

Eventually, she pled a need to make cookie dough and chill it for dessert to escape the weird vibe. Thor was happy to help her mix the dough and she felt relieved. She was uncomfortable. Why was she uncomfortable? Darcy had never felt uncomfortable around Brock, but he’d criticized her and implied she was a baby bridezilla and then been all touchy-feely. It was _bizarre._ She tried not to think too much about it at dinner, especially when he teased her about having twelve wedding binders. “Excuse me, I have two,” she said.

“I thought the other ten were ones for you,” he said.

“I do not--shut up,” she told him. “I’m not interested in getting married!”

“You seem pretty interested in wedding stuff. You shoulda seen her, taking photos of mens’ rings today,” Brock said, smirking.

“How can I be interested in getting married when I haven’t dated anyone since Steve? If I’m some sort of aspiring Bridezilla, shouldn’t I be chasing _Captain America_ around with _Modern Bride_ to get him to commit to me?” she pointed out. There was a weird, tense silence at the table. Darcy was befuddled. “Well?” she said.

“No one’s suggesting you’re a bridezilla, love,” Jack said gently. The conversation shifted to other topics, thankfully. After dinner, Brock went for a run while she baked the cookies with Thor. When he came back, she made sure to  be knee-deep in wedding magazines, her binders, and chocolate chip cookies.   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy's bracelet, just 'cause I love the colors and it seems very her: https://www.victoriaemerson.com/collections/wrap-bracelets/products/agate-stainless-steel-beads-on-mixed-leather
> 
> When I googled photos of Hawaii, I found this rental on Lanikai and now it's the view from their cottage in my head: http://www.pacificislandsreservations.com/oahu-vacation-rentals/lanikai-beachfront-cottage/


	7. Butterflies and Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

To her surprise, Brock plopped down next her after he’d showered. She’d assumed he’d go to bed. Everyone else had already gone and Darcy was hanging out in the living room so she could be all clutterific. “What are you working on now?” he asked, stealing one of her earbuds.

“Thief! You don’t even like that song,” she said.

“Nah. I love this song,” he said. "What's it called?"

"Happiness Is A Butterfly," she told him. "It felt appropriate. There are lots of butterfly wedding things."

“Lemme help you with all this?” he said.

“But you _definitely_ hate weddings,” she told him. “Why do you want to help?”

“Eh,” he said. “You’re interested, there’s gotta be something interesting about it? I never would’ve believed fucking nature walks could be interesting, either. Plus, I help you with planning and organizing this wedding thing, you can help me with another wedding thing…”

“What thing?” Darcy said.

“Whenever there’s a wedding, I want you to go with me,” he said, stealing half a cookie. “This one, the next one, whatever--”

“You want me to be your wedding date?” she said, baffled.

“Yeah,” he said, chewing. “Long-term.”

“Oh,” she said. “Sure. That’s not a problem. You’ve got more weddings to go to?”

“I might,” he said. “Besides, I might learn to like weddings if my favorite person is there.” He picked up one of the binders and opened it, frowning and studying it.

“Those are centerpiece ideas. I’m your favorite person?” Darcy asked, momentarily distracted by his phone buzzing on the coffee table.

“Of course. Did you think you had any competition?” he said, smirking. “Jack got downgraded from favorite non-relative when you showed up.”

“Umm, what about that woman flashing her boobs down there?” Darcy said, pointing towards his phone.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” he said. “This shit again.”

“If you, uh, need privacy to talk to her, I can stay out here?” Darcy offered. “You can have the bedroom?”

“What?” he said.

“Your, um, whatever is happening there? Girlfriend?” she said. He frowned. “Casual naked friend person?” Darcy amended.

“Lewis,” he said, “I consider this harassment. She knows I don’t want to see her damn boobs, I don’t know what’s going on with her and her second ex-husband, but I ain’t in the middle of it.” He hit a few buttons on the phone.

“What are you doing?” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“Where you been, baby?” Darcy heard a female voice say. She raised her eyebrows. He was doing this here. In front of her? He waggled his eyebrows at her and smirked.

“Lucy,” Brock said. “Cut it the hell out. You went back to Bob because I was emotionally unavailable and now you’re bored and you’re gonna lose Bob pulling stunts like this. You like Bob, remember?”

“Bob?” Darcy mouthed. He grinned.

“Yes, I’m using my words to communicate. Focus, Lucy, we’re talking about Bob. Didn’t you tell me he always called when he said he would and bought you nice birthday presents and made you feel emotionally connected, unlike me? You couldn’t handle my schedule being unpredictable and all that?” Brock said calmly, sounding for all the world like a couples’ therapist. Darcy was staring at him. He covered the receiver. “What?” he asked Darcy.

“You sound like Dr. Phil!” she whispered.

“I may have read a book from Jane,” Brock said to Darcy.

“Oh,” Darcy mouthed. Jane had loaned him a bunch of feminist books, she remembered. That was probably one from her Thor-is-MIA period.

“Yes, Lucy, that’s a woman’s voice. We’re doing some wedding planning together,” Brock said. He paused and looked at the phone. “She hung up on me,” he said, laughing. “Oh, that’s fucking good. I gotta remember that when I need someone to hang up on me.”

“I can’t believe you just did that. She was probably naked!” Darcy said. He tilted his head at her quizzically, then his frown transformed into a wide grin.

“Lewis, you are adorable, you know that?” he said. “I can’t believe you think she was taking those right that second and not that she has a file of very flattering naked photos she sends out when she’s bored.” He grinned. “You have no guile, really.”

“I made Thor a fake ID once!” Darcy insisted. “I have some guile.”

“You have a tablespoon of guile,” he said. “Thank God you were overseas for the HYDRA thing. Gimme your other binder. I have opinions about this color you’ve got all up in here.”

“The emerald green is non-negotiable. It’s Loki’s favorite,” Darcy said.

“I’m talking about this one. What is it? Is it fucking mauve?” he teased, pointing. “Mauve and emerald?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said. “What color would you pick, smartass?”

“Hmmm,” he said. To her surprise, he lay down on the couch with his head practically in her lap. “I gotta think on this one,” he said, looking at the colors binder. He rolled his eyes up at her. “You look stressed from your wedding planning, have another cookie,” he said.

“I’m stressed because you’re giving me a hard time!” Darcy said. He snorted.

“You think I’m giving you a hard time?” he said wryly.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, pointing a finger at his nose. “Be nice, or I’ll tell Lucy you want to have lunch with her at SHIELD.”

“That, that is mean, Lewis,” Brock said. “Cruel and unusual punishment.” He flicked through the binder. “Well, at least there won’t be any purity culture bullshit at this wedding.”

“Don’t pretend like you object to weddings because you’re a feminist,” Darcy said. “Read one book…” she muttered.

“Excuse me, I read more than one. I read. It is bullshit, women spending thousands on a big fluffy white dress and all the weird virginity symbolism,” he said. “Do you realize some people think the bride’s rings are either remnants of shackles or a bunch of dowry symbols? That’s crazy shit. You let somebody put that on you and it’s basically symbolic of thousands of years of women being sold or kidnapped. Our big romantic cultural gift is shorthand for goddamned human trafficking.”

“Just because it evolved from that doesn’t mean it still _is_ that,” Darcy said. “Somebody’s pet chihuahua isn’t shorthand for the way dogs used to be mistreated or used to attack people, just because they’re related. You’re conflating them,” Darcy began, when he started to laugh.

“I can’t believe you went with chihuahua,” he said.

“Has it not occurred to you that I’m doing this so I get to have the experience of planning a really nice wedding because I—well, I might never get one of my own?” Darcy said. “Certainly not one this nice,” she mused, bookmarking an article about watercolor invitations online.

“What are you talking about?” Brock said. “Of course you will.”

“One, no Asgardian magical budget. Two, didn’t you suggest I ought to find weddings depressing, since I’m an aged old maid?” she said.

“Your last boyfriend was Cap,” Brock said.

“So?” Darcy said. “He didn’t even want people to know about us.”

“He’s an idiot, I keep telling you,” Brock said. He went quiet while she scrolled online. “You miss him or something?” Brock asked.

“No,” Darcy said. “I do miss pancakes and snuggling on the couch, though.”

“What?” Brock said.

“He made the pancakes from scratch and I would eat too many of them and then we would laze around and he would tell me funny stories and cuddle,” Darcy said.

“Huh,” Brock said. “That’s what you miss about Cap?”

“Yeah, that’s all I miss about dating, really,” she said. “I didn’t even want to date all that much. Jane talked me into it, my blind date stood me up, I ran into Steve, etc, etc. It’s only noteworthy because it was Steve and not Some Guy, honestly.”

“You miss the pancakes? Not the sex?” Brock asked.

“I mean, I miss the sex a little? But it’s the soft stuff I really miss,” she said.

“I can’t believe you miss Cap’s softer side. Man, I wish I could razz him about that,” Brock said, laughing.

“Shut up! Talking about it makes me crave pancakes,” Darcy said jokingly. Dinner had been Jack’s favorite fitness abs salmon and veggies and she was still a little hungry. Her stomach growled. “You aren’t allowed to hassle Steve, he’s paranoid about gossip.”

“I know,” Brock said. He grinned and got up.

“What are you doing?” Darcy said.

“Pancakes,” he said.

 

“You were right about the amaretto in the batter, these are delicious,” Darcy told him later, as she was eating pancakes on the couch. He claimed he didn’t eat them, but he kept stealing her fork and she’d relinquished it for him to chase a bit of whipped cream.

“Amaretto is never a bad decision, Lewis. If I had one piece of Italian wisdom to impart…” he joked. She leaned against his shoulder and he stole the entire plate with a scolding noise. “You’re gonna spill on all your pretty fabrics,” he said.

“What do you think Jack will say about watercolor invites?” Darcy asked. He shrugged.

“Impossible to say. If his man likes ‘em, he’ll like ‘em, probably,” Brock said. Darcy stole the fork back.

“I think we should get a second fork,” she said.

“Nah, we’re doing fine,” he said. “Show me that one thing you found on Pinterest?”

“I can’t believe you made me two am pancakes and want to look at Pinterest,” Darcy said.

“Of course I do,” Brock said, frowning a little at her tablet screen. “You just can’t tell anybody or I'll have to kill you. Why is everybody pairing emerald green with this baby pink shit?” he asked.

“I think it was the Pantone color of the year?” Darcy said. “Rose quartz.”

“Color of the year, rose quartz,” he said, shaking his head. “What’s this year’s color? Split pea soup?”

“Living Coral. I love it,” she said. “They’ve had some bad ones, but this is a good one.” She tried to finagle a little pancake off the plate, but it fell from her fork and landed on one of the binders. “Ohhhh, man,” Darcy said.

“There goes the fabrics,” Brock said. She ate the piece of pancake anyway and they were both trying to wipe up the spilled syrup when they bumped heads.

“Ow,” Darcy said.

“You okay?” he said.

“Yeah, you?” she asked.

“Sure. I’ve got a thick skull and a lot of hair,” he joked.

“You do have the nicest hair,” she told him. “Almost Elvis levels of good hair.” He snorted.

“Stop trying to flatter me so I’ll make you future pancakes,” he said.

“I would never lie about Elvis hair,” she said.

“You’re not wheedling more pancakes out of me,” he said, with mock sternness.

“You ate, like, half of them!” Darcy pointed out.

"I'm not making more until we've covered the cuddling thing," he said.

"You want to cuddle me?" Darcy said.

"Uh-huh," he said, taking the plate from her lap and putting it on the coffee table. "I don't know why you're looking so surprised, I play damn boardgames with you, I can make a pillow fort and cuddle."

 

***

"What is going on?" Jane whispered to Thor, when she emerged into the living room the next morning. Thor shrugged.

"Impossible to say, my Jane," he said. "I suspect it is either a shenanigan or they just fell asleep."

"But I'm not hallucinating?" Jane said. "That's pancakes, too?"

"Aye," he said, sniffing the plate from the fridge. "With almond? Shall we eat them?"

"Of course you are not hallucinating," Loki said behind her. "Unless you are the most boring person alive, you would not hallucinate this. Is Darcy actually snoring?"

"She wheezes during allergy season, brother. It is most unfortunate," Thor said.

"Who is going to wake them up?" Loki said.

"Me," Jane said. Darcy and Brock were actually asleep on the couch. At first, Jane had assumed he'd crashed alone, until she realized that was Darcy's arm looped around his waist and that Darcy was wedged between him and the back cushions, wheezing. Jane reached over and poked Brock. "Wake up," she whispered.

"Why not just let them sleep, darl?" Jack said. "Leave the pancakes for them, too. We can all go fetch some breakfast and coffee and go to that yoga class."

"This plan is my preferred plan, she appears to be drooling," Loki said.

"Just let them sleep?" Jane said.

"Whatever you wish, Jane," Thor said, putting the pancakes back. 

"All right," Jane said. "That's weird, though."

"They are exceedingly strange," Loki said. "But her color schemes are lovely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happiness is A Butterfly: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BhE3rvoMrRc


	8. Ahimsa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

“Mmmm,” Darcy said, waking up slowly. She felt very warm and comfortable. Relaxed. A little bit turned on in that way you were when you had good dreams, she realized, burrowing deeper under her blanket and squeezing the pillow in front of her. Except...why was her pillow so warm and _muscular?_

She opened her eyes and realized she was inches away from a tanned, tattooed arm. It was Brock. She was cuddling Brock. She’d drooled a little on his grey t-shirt, she realized. Her face was pressed against his shoulder blades and her arm was wrapped around his belly, under his shirt. Curiously, Darcy felt his abs. They were so firm. She’d never felt so many muscle grooves. “Lewis,” he said suddenly, “are you petting my stomach?” His voice was sleepy.

“Um, maybe?” Darcy said. “Does everyone have that many muscles underneath their squish or are you just special?” He laughed.

“I’m very special,” he said dryly. He entwined their fingers, resting his arm over hers. “You curious about any other parts of me?” he said, turning his head a fraction. He smirked.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, blushing and hiding her face against his shirt. She forgot sometimes that he was such a guy. A good-looking, confident, downright sexy guy.

“Are you blushing?” he said, laughing.

“Noooo,” she said.

“You are, you’re blushing,” he said, sounding oddly pleased.

“You’re pretty,” she admitted in a quiet voice, trying not to look at him. Instead, she focused her attention on his arm, pretending to study the tattoo.

“Thank you,” he said. “I think everybody’s out,” he said. “You want coffee?”

“Yeah, I’d love some,” Darcy said. “Jane left a note.” _All gone to yoga--J_ was written across the whiteboard on the fridge, visible if she lifted her head and squinted towards the kitchen. Brock made to get up and Darcy was seized by a sudden feeling that she would miss him. She half-sat up along with him. “Thank you for cuddling me and making me pancakes,” she said quickly, giving in to impulse and brushing her mouth against the back of his neck. The moment after she’d done it, she realized how crazy it was. _What the heck did I just do,_ she thought. _Have I lost my freaking mind?_

“Did you just kiss me?” he said wryly. He’d stopped moving.

“Uh, um, yes, but that was--I don’t know why I did that? I’m really sorry. Oh my God,” Darcy said. She’d never done anything so embarrassing in her life, including that whole Berlin boob-flashing incident. She wanted to sink into the couch cushions and actually dissolve, _Amelie_ -style. “Oh my God,” she repeated. He did that half turn thing and looked at her with one eye.

“You okay back there?” he asked. Darcy immediately hid her face in her hands.

“Noooo, I want to die of embarrassment,” she said. “Can I just drop dead from shame?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully. He stood up. “I think they probably stole our yoga class, but maybe we can get another one?”

“You want to go to yoga?” she said. Darcy peeked out from behind her fingers. He was just going to treat this as no big deal?

“Yeah,” he said. “I need the stretch, Lewis.” He looked out the window. “Oh, look, Asgard left us another car. Isn’t that nice? I wonder how he got that?”

 

***

 

There was a hot yoga class in town with slots left. Darcy had never taken hot yoga before but Brock cajoled her into it while she avoided actually making eye contact with him. That was how she ended up on a mat in a hundred-degree room, some forty minutes later, sweating profusely while her feet slid around in Downward Dog. They put towels over their mats, but her towel wasn't cooperating. “Oh my God,” she whispered, as the sweat dripped from her chest onto the rented towel and mat. _Drip. Drip. Drip._

“You’re saying that a lot today,” Brock said. She turned her head to look at him. He was shirtless and equally sweaty, but seemed much calmer than her. They’d been doing sun salutations, which involved lots of big movements and getting up and down on your mat. You were supposed to flow elegantly between poses. Challenging in a regular class. Bonkers-difficult in a heated room. The whole idea of hot yoga was that it stretched you more; Darcy was sort of afraid that she’d emerge with stretched out Gumby limbs. Or drowned in a sweat-pond on her own mat.

“I’m dying,” Darcy whispered. “Just bury me under the floor when my legs give out or my body runs out of moisture, whichever happens first.” She could feel the sweat slipping down her back. It all seemed to be pooling in her drawers. Dear God.

“You’ll be fine,” he said.

“If I could move without wrenching my entire leg off, I would kick you,” she said. Her arms were shaking from the effort of holding her own weight.

“Lewis,” he scolded. “Think about _ahimsa._ Weren’t you paying attention during the first part of class?” The teacher had talked at the beginning about being at one with nature and eschewing dairy. Darcy had felt like the teacher could literally see the half and half sloshing around in her body.

“I hate you,” she muttered. _Ahimsa_ was the principle of nonviolence; it was why a lot of Buddhists and Hindus were vegetarians, too, apparently.

“You kissed me,” he teased.

“It--it was an accident,” she said, plopping down on her belly with an _ooof_ when they were allowed to release the pose. The teacher was doing Dhanurasana--bow pose--which required Darcy to reach behind her and grab her ankles.

“How’s that work again?” he asked, fluidly executing the pose with seemingly no effort. She, meanwhile, was struggling to hold her ankles, much less arch her body into a bow shape.

“How are you so flexible?” she asked.

“Don’t change the subject. How do you accidentally kiss someone?” he said, the strands of his hair flopping forward.

“It was an impulse,” she said. “You were getting up and I had an impulsive moment of--of _something_.” She couldn’t quite clarify her own feelings. Intimacy? Yes. Tenderness? Definitely. Was it sexual? She wasn’t sure. When she glanced over, he was looking at her with an ambiguous expression.

“Does that happen often?” he said. “You having a _something_ when you look at me?” He grinned slowly.

“I can’t talk and yoga, Brock,” Darcy said, looking away. She was flushed and it wasn’t the hot room.

 

After class she fled to the bathroom. She was all sweaty and blotchy, hair sweat-damp, color in her cheeks, and clothes sticking to her body with big, wet patches. She was gross. “Do they have a shower here?” she asked another woman.

“No,” the woman said sadly. “The studio can’t get the permits to add on.”

“Oh,” Darcy thought sadly. “Thank you.”

“Most of the tourists go take a dip in the ocean, honestly,” she said.

 

When she came out of the bathroom, Brock was standing there, drinking a bottled water, and talking to an attractive blonde woman in yoga pants. She was touching his forearms. “These are so beautiful,” Darcy overheard her tell him.

“I got them in Thailand,” he was saying, “they’re traditional, sacred tattoos, so it was a different experience from my other tats, very ceremonial. Some of these are still done with metal rods.”

“Do you go to Thailand often?” she said.

“It was for work,” he said. He looked up and saw Darcy. “Oh, here she is.” He leaned over and seized her wrist, towing her over. “This is Amelia,” he said. “She makes jewelry for some of the shops on the islands.”

“I primarily work with semi-precious stones like opals, moonstones, tourmaline, and rose quartz,” the Amelia woman said. “They’re very Instagrammable at the moment.” She gestured with her hands. She had a bunch of fine stacked rings on. Stones in clusters of colors. They were very pretty. “Did you want to try this on?” she said, sliding off a ring.

“Those are beautiful,” Darcy said, feeling slightly self-conscious about her general sweatiness. “Are you sure? I’m a little gross,” she said, gesturing to herself.

“Oh, I know, I sweat buckets during every class, but you feel so good afterwards,” Amelia said.

“You really do,” Brock said, smiling widely. Amelia smiled back at him.

“Here, it’s okay,” she told Darcy. She handed Darcy a band of raw opals.

“That’s your birthstone, right?” Brock said.

“Yeah. It’s really beautiful,” Darcy said. She didn’t even normally wear her birthstone, but these were actually pretty.

“You have such small hands,” Amelia said. “What ring size are you? Five?”

“I don’t honestly know,” Darcy admitted.

“Oh, I can fix that,” Amelia said. She dug around in her bag, then brought out a circular tape. She measured Darcy’s fingers. “Look, I was right--I love trying to eyeball this. Your index is a five, your ring finger is four and a half,” she said brightly.

“Oh, thanks,” Darcy said. While she looked at the ring, Brock and Amelia started talking about tattoos again. He’d spotted one on the inside of the jeweler’s wrist.

“Watercolor,” she supplied, when Darcy told her it was pretty. “I really love watercolor tattoos. Do you have any?”

“Um, no, I’m scared of needles and pain,” Darcy said. “I think they’re beautiful, I’m just chicken.” Amelia laughed.

“Can I buy some jewelry from you while we’re here?” Brock asked suddenly, looking at Amelia intently.

“Yes,” Amelia said happily. “I actually have stuff next door, if you want to walk over?”

“What?” Darcy said at the same time.

“I’m buying someone a gift, Lewis,” Brock said.

“Oh,” Darcy said, giving Amelia back her ring. They followed her out. She was very pretty, Darcy thought, as she walked ahead of them. Was Brock flirting with her? It seemed possible.

“Hey,” Brock said, stopping her while Amelia stepped into a store, “will you give me a minute in here? Go get a coffee or something?”

“Sure,” Darcy said. She watched him go in the store, stood there for a second, then headed for the nearest coffee shop.  

 

***

 

Sweaty, achey, and generally awkward-feeling, Darcy decided she needed coffee and a scone. She didn’t even have her wedding binders with her, so she had to content herself with her phone. She’d finished both and he still hadn’t emerged from the store. Oddly frustrated, Darcy left a note on Loki’s magicked up vehicle and walked to the nearest beach. The public beach wasn’t far, just a few blocks, roughly. It was noisier and more crowded than the one near their cottage, but she could at least hike up her yoga pants and go up to her calves in the water. There was nowhere to stash her purse, unfortunately, or she would have gone all the way in, yoga clothes or no. She was watching some kids play when her phone rang. “Hello?” she said, expecting Jane.

“Lewis, where are you?” Brock said.

“Um, the public beach?” she said.

“Get back here,” he said. “Don’t just wander off--”

“Excuse me, I’m an adult, I’ll go where I want to go,” she said defensively.

“I’ll meet you at the pubic access point, get back here,” he said, cutting her off and actually hanging up the phone. She stomped out to meet him.

“Well? I’m here. What’s the big freaking deal?” Darcy asked, climbing into the passenger seat and putting on her seatbelt with possibly too much hostility. It wasn’t the poor seatbelt’s--”Shit, ow, ow,” she said.

“What?” he said.

“Seatbelt burned me,” she muttered. “That--that is why people don’t wear you and then they die!”

“Are you yelling at the seatbelt?” he asked.

“Maybe,” she said, crossing her arms. They rode in silence for awhile, then he pulled into the road with the cottage.

“You vanished on me,” he asked. “What the hell was that?”

“You asked for space to flirt with jewelry lady!” Darcy shot back. He looked at her. “I was giving you space. I had a coffee and I got bored. I’m a little freaking sweaty here, okay?” He stopped the car at the cottage and grinned at her. She suddenly wanted to scream at the smug look on his face. “I’m taking a shower,” Darcy said sharply.

 

Then she fled the car and practically ran into the house. Jack, Loki, and Jane were in the kitchen. “Hey, Darce, how was--” Jane began.

“I need a shower. Hot yoga,” Darcy said sharply, not stopping.

“Oh, okay,” Jane said. “But what--”

“I’m gross, Jane!” Darcy said in irritation. Jane looked surprised. Darcy stopped only to retrieve one of Loki’s dumb nightgowns and a clean pair of underwear, and then went directly for a shower.

 

***

 

“What was that?” Loki said, as Brock came into the house a minute or two later.

“What did you do?” Jack asked Brock sternly. He gave the other man a particularly feral, deadly look. He crossed his arms.

“Me? I haven’t done anything,” Brock said. “What?” He shrugged. “She’s in a mood today. We went to hot yoga and I don’t think she had a good time.”

“She hates being all sweaty from exercise,” Jane said.

“I cannot say I disagree,” Loki said. “It is very unrefined.”  Thor stepped into the living room, looking hopeful, and smiled at Jane.

“The Lightning Sister has returned? Can we sojourn out for more food?” Thor asked.

“I’m going to hit the other shower,” Brock said.

“I’ll ask Darcy what she wants to do,” Jane said.

 

***

 

Darcy took a long, pleasantly lukewarm shower and scrubbed herself fiercely. Even washed her hair twice to get rid of that sweaty feeling. Jane knocked and asked if she wanted to go to a local restaurant and Darcy told them to go without her. “Are you sure?” Jane asked through the door.

“Definitely,” Darcy called back. “I need a nap. Hot yoga killed me!” she lied.

“Okay, I’ll bring you back something,” Jane said.

“Great!” Darcy said. She could explain everything to Jane later. She sort of wanted to be alone. When she got out, she combed her hair, put on lotion, and brushed her teeth again, just to feel clean. _I’m so glad everyone is gone,_ she thought. She really needed a nap. Changing into the ridiculous nightgown and underwear, she walked out of the bathroom and down the hallway. It was cool and quiet in the house: afternoon sunlight slotting through half-closed blinds, fans running, the murmur of a television from one of the bedrooms. Darcy liked napping in the afternoons anyway. She pushed her bedroom door open.

 

“Hey,” Brock said, tilting his chin up up slightly and turning off the TV. He was shirtless and laying in her bed. Boxers, her brain registered dimly. There was a sort of low hum in her ears. At her incredulous look, he added, “I’m clean, I used the other shower. Jane said you were staying here to nap. I thought I would, too. Did you want to nap with me?”

“You want to nap,” Darcy said slowly. “With me.”

“Sure,” he said. He grinned at her and patted the bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've never taken hot yoga, so apologies to the hot yoga peeps reading. :)
> 
>  
> 
> I feel like I've written this into a fic before, but I'm kinda obsessed with watercolor tattoos, especially the work of Javi Wolf. Alas, I am afraid of needles. If you haven't seen them, they have soft edges, like watercolor illustrations, and often, a spilled paint kinda thing happening? The orange and purple butterfly one is probably my favorite, because I am a walking cliche of basic girl things: https://rattatattoo.com/wear-a-piece-of-living-art-with-a-javi-wolf-tattoo/


	9. Platonic Cuddling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos

“Come to bed,” he said coaxingly. Her heartbeat thudding in her ears, Darcy made her legs move. “Covers?” Brock asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, wondering if her eyes were as wild as she felt. He pulled the blankets back, grinning, and she crawled in. Darcy looked at him. “Is this a prank or something?”

“It’s a _something,”_ he said. Clearly, he was teasing her, the jerk face. “You’re too far away,” Brock said. “Scooch in, baby.”

“Baby?” she said, heart racing. Was he actually flirting with her? It felt flirty. Also, he was stupidly attractive. There ought to be a law against platonic cuddling when you looked that good. Like, it was cardiac endangerment. Or ovarian racketeering. He could talk her into crime or whatever with that body, she realized. That was why she’d been mildly irritated about the jewelry woman, it dawned on her. She was jealous. _Oh shit. Oh shit._

“I’m feeling cuddly,” he said. “You feel cuddly?” He raised an arm and pulled her in close. Darcy rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Good?” he asked.

“Yeah,” she said, hoping she was wasn’t blushing like an idiot. She closed her eyes and sighed, enjoying the warmth of being held and trying to calm the rapid pace of her heart. Her fingers found their way across his muscular chest. To her surprise, he put his free hand on her waist and boosted her so that they overlapped more. She didn’t know how long they’d slept when she woke up later. The clock said it had been thirty minutes or so. She was draped across him. But Darcy had actually drooled on Brock’s chest, she realized, rolling onto her side a little. Panicking slightly, she pulled up the hem of her lingerie to wipe the drool away. She was wiping his chest when he startled her by speaking.

“Lewis,” he said suddenly, “is there a reason you’re flashing me right now? I mean, I’m thrilled, but it seems unintentional,” he said.

“Oh _God,”_ Darcy said, yanking her nightgown back down to her hips. “I just flashed you my entire boobs, didn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Brock said, smirking slowly. “I gotta say, this isn’t a bad way to wake up.” He shifted slightly, stretching.

“I drooled on you,” Darcy said, then realized that made it worse. He grinned.

“Did you now? I didn’t notice,” he said. It was difficult not to grin like a total moron in response. She tried to pull her face back to neutral but failed. He smirked.

“What?” she said.

“Let’s nap some more,” he suggested. “You obviously need more cuddling, you’re doing things people do when they’re exhausted and delirious from hot yoga.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said.

“Like taking all your clothes off,” he teased, when she’d closed her eyes.

“Shut up,” she muttered. He laughed.

 

Darcy woke up again feeling all relaxed. She wiggled slightly. “You awake?” Brock said from behind her. They’d moved in their sleep. He was spooning her, those muscular arms wrapped around her body.

“Hmmm-mmm,” Darcy said. “A little. Don’t make me get up.”

“I wasn’t going to,” he said. “I thought we could just stay in bed until someone makes us move.”

“This is a good idea,” she said, trying to think of something intelligent to say. She glanced back at him. He was sleepy-looking, too. Hair messy, eyes heavy-lidded. He grinned at her. _Oh God,_ she thought, _that is so sexy._

”You want your binders and some wine?” he asked her suddenly, derailing her less than PG train of thought about kissing him, well, everywhere. “I forgot about the wine,” Brock said. He released her gently then swung his legs out of the bed. She watched him, admiring his shoulders and back. Pausing, he half turned to look at her. “Did you want to kiss me again?” he asked.

“Shut up,” Darcy said, flushing. She so wanted to kiss him. He smirked at her.

“Hold on, I’ll be back,” he said.

“Hold onto what?” Darcy whispered out loud, once he’d disappeared. She had already abandoned her dignity and self-control. “Ughhhhh,” she moaned in frustration. She kicked her feet under the covers. _What should I do,_ Darcy thought wildly. _Let him take the lead. If he wants me, he’ll make a move. There’s no need for me to embarrass myself more. What if he doesn’t think of me like that? Not anymore, anyway. He flirted with me when we met and I was all about Steve…._

 

He returned with sangria and cheese for her. “You should eat a little,” Brock said. He passed her a glass and she sipped it, grateful for something to do with her hands. She was a little sweaty from nervousness. He’d half-filled the glass with chunks of fruit, so she fished out a strawberry chunk and ate it. He grinned.

“What?” Darcy said.

“Cute,” he said, sliding an arm around her and pulling her in close. “You want cheddar?” Brock offered. She thought he would hand it to her, so she said yes, but he actually fed her the cheese cube. He looked directly at her when his fingers brushed her mouth. His expression was intense. Darcy felt warm and flushed. It was all she could do not to yell _why aren’t you kissing me?_ She drank a little wine and looked down. _No, no,_ her brain said. Her body was currently betraying her: she had visible goosebumps, her neck was all pink, and her nipples perkily announced themselves through her sleepwear. _Oh, shit, I am so screwed,_ Darcy thought. _He’s seen me mostly naked and he can’t possibly miss how turned on I am right now._ “Hey,” he said.

“Yeah?” Darcy said, involuntarily leaning in.

“I want to talk,” he said, tracing a line up her forearm with his free hand. He had such incredible hands.

“About what?” Darcy said, shivering slightly.

“Expanding my job definition as your acolyte,” he said. “Taking on some new responsibilities. How does that sound?”

“What kind of responsibilities?” Darcy said, trying to repress a squeak. He cupped her elbow and circled it with his thumb. _Oh my God,_ Darcy thought. _I’m going to die of lust right here. What do I do? If I kiss him again, he could sue me for sexual harassment._

“How about gifts in the future? Isn’t that the acolyte’s job?” he said.

“Gifts?” Darcy said. She’d actually squeaked then.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” he said, “I’d like to buy you gifts sometime.”

“What kinds of gifts?” she said.

“Oh, I don’t know, what does the acolyte leave at the temple?” he said. “Flowers, incense, oils, jewelry...” Darcy realized he was joking with her.

“Cut it out,” she said. “You don’t need to buy me things.”

“You buy me things,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, little things,” Darcy said.

“I want to buy you things,” he said, twirling a bit of her hair around his finger. “Give you things.”

“It’s not necessary for my happiness, though,” she said.

“What is necessary for your happiness?” he asked intensely.

“Ummm, let’s see….Elvisopoly, cheese, coffee, I’m easy to please, really,” she said, trying to sound normal and calm and not like she was erotically distracted. “I liked those _Inside Out_ plushies you gave me.” He looked at her.

“I know,” he said. His expression was unreadable.

“You could give me back Stuey?” she said. He shook his head, grinning.

“I’d be lonely without my roommate,” he said, fixing her with an intense look. Darcy swallowed. If it meant that much to him, she’d take whatever he wanted to give her. A very naughty part of her wanted to request naked fun, but she didn’t want him to think she was taking his serious declaration and turning it into a smutty joke.

“Okey dokey, you win. Spoil me,” Darcy said, curling up under Brock’s arm in the darkened, cool room. He laughed.

"Good," he said.  _But oh God, naked snuggles,_ she thought, her eyes on his shoulder. _Wouldn’t that be incredible?_ She couldn’t help but think about that as he fed her a piece of fruit. Their eyes met again and she had to look away so she could breathe.

“I was thinking, I mean, I’ve been thinking for a long time--” he began again and she dared to look him in the eye. He was smiling at her. She was so preoccupied with trying to read his expression and pay attention to his words, she didn’t hear the noise in the hallway.

 

“Darce,” Jane said, pushing the door open, “I’ve got dinner. Have you seen Brock? Fury’s sending a quinjet for him and Jac--uh, shit. I’m sorry, sorry!” Darcy glimpsed an embarrassed-looking Jane ducking out of the room with a large restaurant bag.

  



	10. Geode Cakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!!

Brock seemed to shake himself out of whatever was happening between them.

“You go have some dinner,” he said. “I’ll see what Fury wants.” He dressed quickly and gave her a long look before he left the room. A breathless and faintly-giddy Darcy put on one of the floaty dresses that Loki had magicked up for her and went into the living room. “Darcy,” Thor said cheerfully. “Jane has brought the risotto for you. It’s delicious.” He and Jane were sitting at the table. Jane was working in a notebook and very carefully not looking at Darcy.

“Thanks,” Darcy said, trying not to blush wildly. She went into the kitchen where Loki was leaning against the counter, watching Jack and Brock talk on the patio. They appeared to both be dialed into a phone call with their respective SHIELD phones.

“Fury is recalling them for a mission,” Loki said, sighing. “I do so loathe one eyed men.”  Something about his petulant tone unleashed all the weird, conflicted emotions Darcy had been having. She was getting a plate out of the cabinet and started to giggle. She laughed until she cried, holding the plate to her belly and slumping against the counter. “What aether has possessed you?” Loki said.

“I just caught them having sex in there,” Jane said.

“We--we--were not having sex,” Darcy said, wiping her eyes. “He hasn’t even kissed me yet.”

“Well, then, what the hell was that?” Jane said.

“Cuddling,” Darcy said. “Mostly platonic cuddling?”

“That is repulsive,” Loki said. “Also, nauseating.”

“Mean!” Darcy said. Loki rolled his eyes and shimmered away. “Where’d he go?” Darcy said to Jane and Thor.

“He is quite put out that Jack must leave early, pay him no mind,” Thor said.

“Awwww, it’s sweet that he’s in love,” Darcy said, getting her takeout. The quinjet arrived while Jack and Brock were still outside; it landed on the lawn. Darcy realized it was Steve and Natasha standing at the edge when they started walking towards the house. Jack and Brock came inside to get their go-bags, trailed by a serious-faced Captain America and a smiling Black Widow. Brock gave Darcy a look as he passed. She would have followed him so they could have a moment alone, but Natasha spoke to her and came over to give her a hug.

“Hello,” Steve said to the room.

“Hi, Steve,” Jane said.

“Hi,” Darcy said, looking at him over Nat’s shoulder.

“Captain,” Thor said cheerfully, coming over to hug both of them.

“It’s beautiful here,” Natasha said to Darcy, once Thor had put her back down. “I am sure they hate to leave, _milaya.”_

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “This is paradise.”

 

She walked with the group when they went to board the quinjet. Brock fell in step with her. “How long before you’ll be back?” Darcy whispered, hoping it would be a brief mission.

“You’ll be back in DC, probably,” he said.

“Unfair,” she muttered.

“We’ll talk when I get back,” he said neutrally. She didn’t understand his shift into a more distant tone until she saw his eyes slide to Steve and Natasha. Unless it was really something else? An innocuous, platonic thing. What if it was less that he wanted a _something_ and more something else? What if she’d misread his signals? Maybe he was just trying to be a good friend. Darcy watched him climb the quinjet ramp. _Look back,_ she wished, like she was Margaret freaking Hale. _Just look back._ He didn’t look back. Not at first. Only when the ramp was closing did he turn. His gaze met hers and then the ramp closed. She couldn’t read his expression.

 

When she got back to the room, Darcy sat on the bed. She sighed and thought about what he wanted. What did he want? She wondered if his expanded acolyte role could include kissing. She missed kissing. Thinking about his mouth was distracting, she realized. The man practically pouted sometimes.

 

***

 

They’d finished the debrief on the quinjet, so Brock sat down to wait. Just his luck, he thought. Jack moved sullenly to one of the seats. Brock could tell Jack was out of sorts, probably because Loki was disappointed. They were a well-attuned couple. Knew each others’ moods, likes and dislikes. Jack was careful with Loki.

 

“Rumlow,” Steve said, suddenly, “what do you think of this system update?”

“Oh, it’s just the usual, Cap. They’ll do updates, there will be a backlog, everything will sort itself out eventually,” Brock said calmly.

“Everything sorts itself out?” Steve said.

 

***

 

“Can I ask for that?” Darcy said out loud to Jane at not-hot yoga the next day. They were in triangle pose.

“What?” Jane said. Darcy realized she’d been mid-thought when she vocalized.

“I want Brock to kiss me,” she told Jane in a whisper, as they dropped down to their mats. “He was talking about giving me things I need and well…”

“You’re wondering if he’d be open to less platonic cuddling?” Jane said.

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “He used to flirt with me, right? Do you think he’d be interested?” Darcy said, glancing at the other woman. A stretching Jane grinned.

“Darce, I hate to tell you this, but half the people we work with think he’s all up in your chakras already,” Jane said.

“Really?” Darcy said, slightly too loudly.

“Duh,” Jane said. “He’s glued to you at work.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, worrying her upper lip thoughtfully.

“What?” Jane said.

“That sort of gives me FOMO, now that I think about it,” Darcy said. “I could have had him kissing me?” She sighed.

“This can’t possibly just be occurring to you now?” Jane said archly.

“I thought he just liked me as a friend!” Darcy said defensively.

“Uh-huh,” Jane said.

“He said I was his favorite person,” Darcy said quietly.

“Sure,” Jane said.

“Would you kiss your favorite person?” Darcy asked. Jane rolled her eyes.

 

***

 

After yoga, the four of them went to the beach. Darcy and Jane sat under an umbrella while Thor and Loki played with magicked up hackey sacks. Thor had seen a tourist with one and was fascinated. “Did Loki make silk ones?” Darcy said, peering at them as Thor attempted to keep it in the air.

“Yup,” Jane said. They laughed. He had a real taste for luxury. In the distance, Loki was complaining that Thor was hogging it and showing off.

“Oooh, Jane, I gotta tell you about this thing I’ve found online. Geode cakes! What do you think?” Darcy asked. “Is that neat or weird?”

“Neat,” Jane said. “Are you settled on green and gold for a theme?”

“Uh-huh,” Darcy said. “Jack signed off on it this morning by email. We’ve ditched the idea of a third color.”

“You talk to Brock yet?” Jane asked wryly.

“Nope,” Darcy said.

“Why not?” Jane prompted. “Is he making you shy or something?”

“Of course not.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up, Jane.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Fine, I’ll text him.”

 

Darcy took a picture of the scene in front of her--turquoise-blue seas, white sand, swaying palm trees--and texted him. Almost immediately, a texting bubble popped up in response.

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** This is what you’re missing.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** You’re breaking my heart.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** When did you change my display name?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** It might endanger my confidential assistant to disclose.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Enjoy the rest of your vacation.

 

“How am I supposed to interpret these?” she asked Jane. Jane shrugged.

“Heartbreaking does have connotations, Darce.”

“It’s ambiguous, though,” Darcy said.

“Phhft, you’re having a low self-esteem moment, he practically worships you. Always has. Show me the geode cakes again?” Jane asked.

 

  
***

 

They talked about geode cakes, watercolor invitations, and flowers all afternoon and into the evening. There was dinner for the four of them at a restaurant. It was a pleasant time, but Darcy felt a lack. She missed Brock, she realized, as they enjoyed the rest of their vacation. He was her near-constant companion these days. Like Jane and Thor, he’d become one of her people, but they actually spent more time together whenever they were both in a big group. She was used to turning to him with a joke or a story; he refilled her drinks and generally scared off more obnoxious men. She’d been hit on by her third drunk tourist when Darcy sighed and texted him.

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I miss you being my personal Doberman. [9:15 pm PST]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** This means that I’m being hit on by a bunch of drunk guys now that you’re not here to glare at them. [9:22 pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** My _actual_ drink has a pretty flower in it. Look! [photo] [9:37pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Some gross guy just sent me a drink called a Buttery Nipple. Jane is glaring at him, but I think he’s delusional and thinks she’s hitting on him or doing Sexy Face. He is an idiot. [9:42 pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** He _keeps_ sending them. Yuck. [9:47pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I think Thor is going to hit him with the hammer now…. [9:51 pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Wait, hammer deftly avoided. He’s apologizing. [10:11pm]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** There are some guys here who clearly adopted the ‘stache and Hawaiian shirt look during _Magnum PI_ and are still hanging in there, hair loss on top be damned. It’s wild.

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I miss you.  [12:13 am]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Like really really miss you. [12:43am]

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Also, I’m really drunk. But I miss you. [12:47am]

  


In the morning, a groggy and coffee-thirsting Darcy shuffled out to the living room. Loki must still be asleep, but Thor was outside petting a dog and Jane was brewing a pot of the wonderous bean.

“Bless you, fair lady,” Darcy said. “I pledge myself in your service for a cup of yon magical beverage.”

“Ha ha ha,” Jane said. The two of them listened to the coffee brew. Jane yawned. Darcy thumbed through her emails. 15% off at The Sock Drawer. A request for Jane to speak in Ohio. Her light bill. She looked at her messages app. She had a text message from Brock.

 

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Sounds like an interesting night. [8:17am]

 

“Oh, no,” Darcy said, looking down at her phone in horror. “Jane, no!”

“What is it?” Jane said. She put down the half and half in alarm.

“I texted Brock last night!” Darcy said, panicking.

“Yeah, you were telling him about the drunk guys. So?” Jane said, looking relieved.

“Nooooooooo.”

“What?” Jane said.

“I texted him after we got home last night,” Darcy said, heart thudding in her chest. “Oh shit, oh shit. Jane, I’m so stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Jane said, yanking the phone away. She looked at the screen. “Oh shit.” Darcy’s last text to him--complete with typos--loomed in its little bubble.

 

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I thnk I in love wid you. [2:27 am]

 

“I am so fucked,” Darcy said. “Jane, kill me before the embarrassment does. Hurry!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geode cakes!
> 
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> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> Link: http://www.forevermorebling.com/sparkling-geode-wedding-cakes-trendy-wedding-ideas/


	11. [Darcy Flails Wildly]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos! Y'all are the best!

Darcy had her head on the table and Jane was googling puppy videos when Loki came into the kitchen. “Darce, look at the puppy! He’s wearing sunglasses! You love puppies,” Jane was saying in a desperate voice. She sounded like someone negotiating with an exhausted toddler.

“What is the matter? Why is Darcy crying?” Loki said.

“Because I’m an idiot!” Darcy sobbed. She held out her arms and Loki hugged her awkwardly.

“She drunk-texted Brock that she loved him at two am last night,” Jane explained over Darcy’s head. Loki looked perplexed.

“So?” Loki said.

“What do you mean _so?!_ This is an emergency! He told me it sounded like I had an ‘interesting’ night, which is probably code for _this bitch be crazy,”_ Darcy said, looking up and him and wiping her eyes. Loki sighed.

“Think sensibly. You are both intelligent, educated women. He is likely to be unalarmed and also unlikely to make romantic declarations on a quinjet carrying your keen-eared and resentful former lover—” Loki said.

“Resentful?”

“Steve?” Two faces looked at Loki with surprised expressions.

“Obviously,” Loki said, “Captain Rogers was positively seething the other night. Did you not notice because Jane caught you on the verge of lovemaking?”

“Wh-what?” Darcy said.

“And in any case, I have heard you make drunken declarations of affection to songs, Jane, my brother, two beagles, ice cream, nail polish with glitter, me, a kitten, pizza, the man who delivered said pizza—”

“He’s right, you do say you love things when you’re tipsy,” Jane said, interrupting Loki’s list. “You’re a happy, cuddly drunk.”

“So, I would not trouble yourself,” Loki said. “He is undoubtedly accustomed to such behavior and there is no reason to mar your appearance by weeping.”

“You think we were on the verge of sex?” Darcy asked.

“I thought you were already there!” Jane pointed out.

“It is about time, really, you have been dating for weeks,” Loki said.

“We are not!” Darcy shot back.

“Does she truly believe this?” he said to Jane. Jane nodded. Loki looked at her incredulously. “You cannot possibly--”

“Can’t you use magic to undo it?” Darcy begged. “It’s only a text!”

“I cannot manipulate time,” Loki said. “I am sorry.” He patted her shoulder and Darcy started to get overwhelmed again. She was really upset and she didn’t know why. Only that if she lost Brock’s friendship because he thought she was nuts, she would be so lonely. He hadn’t texted anything else.

“What do I _do?”_ she said.

“You just play it cool,” Jane said soothingly. “Treat it like no big deal?”

“Yes,” Loki agreed. “That is my advice as well.”

“There were _typos,”_ Darcy told him, sniffling. “Real bad ones.”

“Let me see?” he asked, catching Jane’s slight cringe. He looked at her phone. “Oh dear,” Loki said.

“But it’s like you said, we can’t change time,” Darcy said.

“No, we can’t,” Loki said, eyes gleaming. “But someone else can.”

“Who?” Darcy asked.

“Oh no, not him! Not asshole Strange!” Jane said.

“Who?” Darcy repeated.

“You sound like an owl,” Loki said.

“He is this schmuck I’ve met at conferences,” Jane said. “A stupid, stupid asshole surgeon. I don’t know what idiot gave him magic--”

“Is my life ruined?” Darcy asked out loud.

“C’mon, Darce,” Jane said, pissed off expression turning tender. “You’re not normally this upset.”

“By life, I mean _chance of getting to see Brock naked?”_ she clarified. Loki snorted.

“Come along, we are going to Bleecker Street,” Loki told her. “Where is Thor? We may need a friendly face.”

“Okay,” Darcy said.

“I would bet the vaults of Asgard on you seeing him naked one day,” Loki said, patting her head.

“Okay,” she repeated numbly.

 

***

 

“You brought Loki into my Sanctum to ask me to use my precious mystical resources to reverse time and _recall a text message to your sister’s friend?”_ Doctor Strange asked Thor.

“Precious mystical resources,” Loki muttered to Darcy, rolling his eyes. Darcy looked around the elegant, imposing room. Her palms were sweating.  She was stressed. This Strange guy hadn’t wanted to let them in at first. Now he was looking distinctly unhelpful.

“It would be most helpful,” Thor said coaxingly. The corner of Strange’s cloak bounced a little when Thor talked. Strange cut his eyes at it, then looked back at Thor.

“You’re actually serious?” Strange said. “I mean, really? An embarrassing text?”

“This is an emergency!” Darcy yelled, breaking her silence. Thor shook his head at her a fraction. He’d asked to negotiate with the former surgeon. Who was reportedly very sensitive about his work. To Thor’s evident discomfort, Strange took offense. He stood taller, glaring at Darcy with sharp blue eyes. Even his cowlick seemed to puff in offense.

“Miss Lewis, aliens are an emergency, death cults are an emergency, and terrorism is an emergency. What you have is a personal problem. It is beneath the mystical arts to be used for petty reasons. I cannot help you,” Strange said. That was when Darcy got really upset. First, she called him a schmuckdoodle. Then things escalated when he called her an immature, ridiculous child and she sassed back that he “didn’t sound like the Dalai freaking Lama” just then. Loki had to drag her out, while Thor placated Strange.

“Jane was right! You look like Vincent Price doing dinner theater in Boca in 1974!” Darcy yelled from the stoop. Loki started to laugh. “Ugh, I hate him!” she told Loki.

“He is quite tiresome,” Loki said. “But I rather enjoy Vincent Price. Shall we let Thor return to Jane and have an adventure?” he asked.

“Tony can’t help?”

“Expressly forbidden by Pepper of the Potts from manipulating time,” Thor said, stepping outside. “Let us leave the sanctuary of the witches behind, yes?” They made sure to move down the sidewalk. Darcy thought the Sanctum itself was looking a little pissed off. It might be...bulging? Weird.

“Go back to Jane, I will cheer Darcy,” Loki said. Thor patted her on the shoulder.

“Darcy,” he said, “it will be all right.”

“Thanks for trying,” she said, hugging him on the sidewalk.

 

Efforts to cheer her up included going to a nearby bakery, Molly’s Cupcakes. “This is probably not technically the best coping strategy,” Darcy said to Loki, on her second cupcake. She’d followed up a Caramel Buttercream with a Chocolate Raspberry. “What if I just move here and never see him again?” she said. “Hide here with my shame? Would Jane work for Stark? These cupcakes are really good.”

“That would be exceptionally silly,” he told her, cupping his chin and looking at her sweetly. There was something fond in his expression.

“Bah humbug, I liked you better when you were cynical,” Darcy said. “Gooey lovey you is not taking my emotional crisis seriously.”

“What else would you like to do?” he offered.

“Smell pretty things?” she said. “After we get some of these cupcakes to take home. Jane would be sad at me if I didn’t.”

 

They had gone to a few fancy perfume places --Loki seemed pleased by the amount of bling at the Bergdorf’s perfume counter--when she offered him her wrist. “What do you think?” she asked. “It’s Chanel no. 5.” It smelled like rich, soapy-clean flowers to Darcy. Clean, warm, elegant, totally unlike a drunk texter. Expensive, but she was aiming for retail therapy.

“It’s very nice,” he said dubiously, “but not at all you. You are not a formal person.“

“What if I became a formal person? Like, more responsible when I text?” she said. He grinned.

“No, I think not,” he said. “You need something more sweet and fun.”

“Blargh,” she told him. They left Bergdorf’s without her getting anything. “I need a fresh start,” she told him. "Mentally. A mental trick."

“Because you sent an errant text?” he said.

“I don’t know, it’s a me thing. I want to feel together when I see him again,” she said.

“You are perhaps exaggerating this out of all reasonable proportion,” Loki said.

“He didn’t acknowledge it!” Darcy said.

“Let us go somewhere fun? Where is somewhere fun?” he asked her.

“Anthropologie,” Darcy said. “Jane hates it and refuses to go with me, she says it’s too frilly.” Loki scoffed.

“She is not a terribly decorative person,” he said. 

 

They were browsing Anthro when Darcy’s phone rang. “It’s Brock!” she hissed, almost dropping the phone when she saw his name pop up onscreen. “I can’t answer!” she said.

“Let me,” he said. “Hello?” Darcy began panic-mouthing things at him.

 _“What does he want?”_ she asked. Loki waved her away, so she went to look at things and not hyperventilate. When she came back, Loki was writing down an address. She waited until Loki hung up. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“He would like you to run an errand for him,” Loki said, grinning. “Since Jack told him we were in New York.”

“He wants me to run his errands?” Darcy said, gobsmacked.

“Apparently, you are also meeting his mother,” Loki said.

“Oh God,” Darcy said. “I feel sick.” They were walking out of the store when she realized he was carrying a small bag. “What’s that?” she said.

“This is your perfume,” he said. “I got it while you were wandering about the store. It’s perfect.” He handed her the bag and she looked at the tiny box.

“Kai?”” she said.

“It’s very you,” he said.

“It’s very expensive,” Darcy said. He shrugged. “Have you been using Thor’s fake credit cards again?”

“It is not as if you haven’t faked his identification in the past,” Loki said mildly. “Besides, you are planning my wedding.”

“I do like it,” she admitted. It smelled like fresh-cut gardenias.

“Thor will not mind,” Loki said.

“I’m never asking you how much credit card debt he’s in without his knowledge, but we really need to talk about the Internal Revenue Service sometime,” Darcy said.

"How dull," Loki said. “Come along, we must go to the Bronx. What is the Bronx?” he asked. When she suggested the subway, Loki rolled his eyes and conjured up a town car and driver. “I am not so pedestrian,” he said. “The subway,” he chuckled, as they got in. In the backseat, Darcy felt herself slightly hyperventilate. She put lipgloss on and tried to pat down her hair frizz, just to self-soothe. “Will you calm down?” he told her. “This is patently absurd.”

“Should we give her these cupcakes?” Darcy said, gesturing to her bag from Molly’s.

“If it will make you stop breathing like that, yes,” he said. “We can get more for Jane before we leave.”

 

***

 

After a commute to the Bronx, they pulled up in front of a small restaurant. “It’s not a house?” Darcy said. There was a brightly striped awning over the door.

“No,” Loki said. “Apparently, we are here for something called lasagna?” he said.

“What?” Darcy said. “Lasagna?”

“Are you ready?” Loki asked, pausing with the car door open. Behind them, someone honked and yelled. They were stopped in the street.

“Okay,” Darcy said. “Okay.” She climbed out, stomach lurching weirdly. “I’m gonna die,” she said. Loki sighed in an aggrieved way.

 

The inside of the restaurant was small and cozy-looking. Dark wood and banquet tables along one wall. Beyond that, there was a small room of tables. The man working behind the bar in the front looked up when they walked in. “Angela!” he yelled--Darcy jumped--”it’s them!” Darcy froze, holding her paper bag with the box of Molly’s cupcakes, when she heard clacking footsteps from somewhere. A petite, dark haired woman emerged from behind a swinging door near the bar, discarding an apron. She was wearing a skirt and a crisp-looking blouse and heels. She was incredibly tiny and gorgeous. Even shorter than Darcy, but much more delicate-looking.

“Oh, honey,” she said to Darcy, opening her arms wide. “I’m delighted to meet you.” Darcy found herself embraced by tiny, albeit surprisingly strong arms, accompanied by a swirl of rich-smelling perfume and hairspray. She stuttered something out about being so glad to meet the other woman and caught Loki’s eye roll at her lack of charm. Of course, she’d known Brock’s mother would be attractive, but this woman looked _polished._ Like a tiny, Italian Jackie O. She looked at Loki. “And your royal highness,” she said calmly, like she met princes everyday. Loki kissed her hand gallantly and she gave him a flawless little curtsy gesture.

“I, uh, brought cupcakes,” Darcy said, desperate to say something intelligent. Anything.

“How sweet of you!” she said. “Come with me. Have you had lunch? I can’t send you away without lunch.”

“That would be delightful,” Loki said, in full on charm mode. _Thank God he’s here,_ Darcy thought. She had cottonmouth and sweaty hands. _How do I deal?_

 

The anxiety got worse when Mrs. Rumlow ate with them. She was very elegant and charismatic. Graceful hand gestures, playful movements, a musical laugh, Darcy catalogued, as she drank water to hide her own shakiness. Loki was charming, thankfully. They were practically a charm power couple. Angela had the manners of someone with professional training. It dawned on Darcy that she was basically being job interviewed midway through the antipasto, when Angela asked whenshe’d graduated from Culver. It was very subtly done, but it still surprised her. “Brock’s mentioned me to you that much?” she said in a squeak.

“Of course he has,” Angela said, laughing. “Do you think he talks about anything else? He’s never been able to talk about work, so it used to be all about his boxing drills or his vacations, when he took them. We mostly talked about family or the restaurant or the neighborhood. All of a sudden he calls me one day talking about going to a museum and a nature walk? Ask Tony at the bar,” she said, “I almost fainted.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. Angela smiled.

“He got me a swear word coloring book a few weeks ago,” she said.

“Oh God,” Darcy said. “Do you hate it?” She couldn’t imagine the woman in front of her swearing, like, at all.

“I own a restaurant,” she said airily, “fuck is my personal mantra.”

 

“What was that?” Darcy said, when they left, stuffed full of delicious food and wine. Loki was carrying Brock’s lasagna trays. Darcy had somehow found herself talking about her life. To Angela! Was it the wine? To her horror, she realized she’d actually mentioned her life goals, like she was in an Oprah episode. Somehow, Angela had gotten her to volunteer lots of information.

“You have just been interviewed,” he said coolly.

“But for what?” Darcy asked, baffled. Angela had given her another bag, with “something Brock probably wants” to bring back, too. It wasn’t food. She was half-tempted to peek.

“Prospective daughter-in-law, you idiot,” Loki said. “Perhaps prolonged exposure to my father has skewed your judgment? That is how civilized, elegant people assess their children’s partners, I’m sure it is baffling.”

“No way,” Darcy said. Loki sighed at her.

“How can you be so naive?” he said.

“Did I do good, though?” Darcy asked, horrified.

“Her son is forty something and has never married, you’re fine,” Loki said. “She’s probably delighted that he’s besotted with a college graduate who is friends with Asgardian royalty, has harmless hobbies, no previous husbands or arrest record, and is young enough to give her grandchildren.”

“Oh God, kill me,” Darcy said. “She did ask about husbands, didn’t she? How did she do that?”

“Not this again--”

“Get Jane more cupcakes, then kill me,” she said, as they got in the car. “Or hide me on a distant realm.”

“I will not.”

“No?”

“He would just look for you, there’s no reason to bother.”

“Oh.” They sat for a bit as the driver navigated through traffic. “Did I actually tell her we were planning a party to celebrate my last student loan payment in June?” Darcy asked.

“Yes.”

“How did she do that?” she asked. Loki shrugged.

***

 

Heimdall vaulted them back to DC so she could put Brock’s lasagnas in his freezer. She had a key, but she’d only been to his place a handful of times. Always with him, never alone. “Why do you think he wanted me to do this?” she asked Loki, as she slid the foil trays into the freezer.

“He likes his mother’s lasagna?” Loki asked, poking around.

“Don’t be nosy,” Darcy scolded.

“Please, as if you aren’t intrigued,” Loki scoffed. “Don’t you want to know if he keeps photos of other women?”

“Yeah,” Darcy admitted. “But wouldn’t those be on his phone?”

“No idea,” Loki said. He grinned. “Why not send one? See what transpires?”

“Shut up,” Darcy said. “I’m finding Stuey, dammit.” She drifted into his bathroom.

“Tsk-tsk,” Loki said, “you lack imagination.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, sticking her head out of the bathroom.

“A cleverer woman would take nude photos and leave them next to your--whatever it is,” Loki said.

“It’s a Minion Light Up Talker and I would not traumatize Stuey like that,” Darcy said, smelling Brock’s shampoo and sighing. That was what made his hair smell so nice.

“As if he has not had sex in this apartment or--” Loki looked at her.

“Or what?” Darcy said.

“Thought about you when he--?” He raised an eyebrow.

“He probably doesn’t,” Darcy said. “Think about me, I mean. He probably thinks about someone else.” She walked back out into the living room. “What do they call it on Asgard?” she asked.

“Masturbation?” he called back.

“I mean, casually,” Darcy said. “In slang?”

“Fandralling off, probably. I am not a slang individual,” he said. Darcy snorted, then stopped. Loki emerged as if he could hear her train of thought. “What?” he said. She’d sat down on the couch.

“It’s one of my books,” she said. “There’s a bookmark. He’s reading it. _Reading_ my book.”

“And?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, feeling weirdly emotional. “He shows interest in my interests?” It was a pretty girly book, she thought. She’d loaned a few of her happiness and creativity books to him when he'd asked. She handed the little book to Loki. It had a sky-blue cover.

 _“You Can Buy Happiness--And It’s Cheap,”_ Loki read aloud. He turned the book over. “What is a tiny house?” he asked her.

“A little, movable house,” she explained. “That author and her husband downsized to pay off their debts and live more simply. Sort of the way Jane and I lived in New Mexico.”

“Well, that sounds dreadful,” he said. Darcy laughed.

“He’s even reading _The Happiness Project_ and my _Brave, Intuitive Painting_ book,” Darcy said. "I loaned him that and he doesn't even paint. It was just for the yoga parts."

“Why haven’t you done any more apartment murals?” Loki asked. There had been a few apartments where she’d done abstract murals on the walls or big canvases for Jane. “I haven’t seen _you_ paint recently,” he pointed out.

“No,” Darcy said, “I guess I haven’t?”

“Well, you should,” he said, “or I shall make you go live in one of these shoebox houses so you’ll stop fretting about him.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. 

 

***

 

That gave Darcy an idea. When Heimdall had sent them back to Hawaii--it was exceptionally lucky he was so obliging, she thought--Darcy took one last yoga class with Jane. “Loki says I don’t paint anymore,” she said, groaning slightly in chaturanga. Her arms quaked a smidge. Chaturanga was freaking difficult.

“I haven’t seen you paint since we moved,” Jane said. “Why not?”

“Dunno,” Darcy said, giving up and folding down into child’s pose, “but I’m thinking of starting again.”

“Yeah,” Jane said. “Good idea. You’re very calm when you paint.”

“I need calm.”

“Yeah.”

“You were right about Strange, total asshole,” Darcy said.

“Completely,” Jane grumbled, stressing the last syllable. “But before we go, we should get some mai tais and stare at the ocean.”

“Why is the water so good here and yet so cold and unfeeling in DC?” Darcy wondered.

“Politicians,” Jane said. Darcy laughed.

 

When they got back to DC on a Saturday, Darcy immediately started what she was internally calling her Calm Down, Bitch project. She needed to get her shit together before Brock got back into town. He was acting totally normal for Mission!Brock: he’d forwarded her a random gif at 3am and then a photo of Jack drooling on his own shoulder, asleep somewhere. She did a yoga DVD in her living room (Shiva Rea’s Yoga in Greece was almost as pretty as Hawaii). Then she dug out her painting supplies and ran to a craft store for new canvases. She wanted to paint flowers. Flowers and butterflies. She spent all of Saturday afternoon doing loose, little sketches and googling how to sketch things. She was rusty. Sunday afternoon, she began in earnest. Darcy turned on music and did stretches, brewing herself a cup of coffee. She prepped her first canvas with an all-over wash of sunshiny, butter yellow, then began to create soft flower petals in teal. She was outlining them in bronze when her phone rang. “Hello,” she said, putting it on speaker and trying not to get paint on the screen.

“Hey,” Brock said, “where you been? You’re making me worry, not responding to my texts.”

“I’m fingerpainting!” Darcy said, with more naturalness than she felt. “I”ve got my music on, I didn’t realize you texted.”

“Everything go okay with Ma?” he asked.

“Lasagna’s in your fridge,” she told him.

“My fridge?” Brock said.

“You could have told me that your mom was a tiny doll, though. I was ill-prepared for glamorous mothers,” she joked.

“What, you don’t think I’m glamorous? That hurts my feelings, baby,” he said. “You eat yet? I’m back in town, we just finished debrief, I thought we could have dinner. You want the mushroom lasagna or the regular one?”

“You’re sharing your mother’s lasagna with me?” Darcy said, confused. He wasn’t going to hoard that? Mom food?

“That’s the idea, yeah,” he said. “Which one do you want? I’ll swing by my place and then head over. Leaving work now.”

“Ummmmmm,” Darcy said.

“C’mon, I know you want the mushroom one, you love goddamn mushrooms,” he said teasingly.

“I--I do,” Darcy said. “There’s nothing wrong with being a mushroom person!”

“Say that out loud in public, ‘shroomie,” he said.

“Bite me,” she grumbled.

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit. Turn your oven on 375, if you feel like it,” he said.

 

She was trying to breathe and fingerpaint when she heard his knock. “Hey,” he said. He was holding one of the lasagna trays and a bottle of wine.

“Hey,” Darcy said. Her heart was beating a little fast, as he put things on her kitchen counter.

“That the painting? Man, that’s neat, baby.” He slid an arm around her shoulder and to her surprise, kissed her cheek. “You look a little pink,” he said, while she stood there, “you and Jane get some sun?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, feeling herself blush more. The oven—she’d turned it on—beeped and Brock put in the food.

“Locate me a corkscrew and I’ll watch,” he said.

“What?” Darcy said.

“You painting,” he said. “I wanna see.”

 

***

 

Darcy woke up warm and with that sore throat feeling you got with snoring. She'd slept deeply. Her alarm was going off. “Ugh,” she groaned. Mondays sucked.

“Morning,” a sleepy voice said. Brock’s voice. “What is that fucking noise?” Darcy jumped a fraction in surprise. He chuckled. “Sorry,” he said.

“My alarm,” she said, reaching for the snooze. He stretched out and wrapped his arm around her. He was so strong, she thought.

“Few more minutes,” he said, pulling her closer, so her body was pressed flush with his. It felt _great._ Which was irritating. He’d watched her paint, plied her with lasagna and wine, and then suggested they make up for missed cuddling. That was why both of them were in her bed now. She had thought it was a pretext for sex, given how he’d eyed her all night, but no. Zero sex had been had. He’d climbed into bed in his boxers, put his arms around her, said goodnight, and fallen asleep with his mouth tantalizingly close to her ear. She'd lain awake feeling him _breathing_ on her. Darcy had never been this confused in her life. She turned her head to look at him. He smirked at her, hair wild. “Just a few more minutes,” he said sleepily. "You smell good. Feels like I'm still on vacation."  
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly's is real and looks fun as heck: https://foursquare.com/v/mollys-cupcakes/4e28648c2271752a4594123e/photos
> 
> If you haven't heard of Flora Bowley, who wrote Brave, Intuitive Painting a.) she's an AMAZING artist and b.) she teaches these intuitive painting techniques that are very playful and flexible. She's written two books and teaches online & in-person workshops. 
> 
> It's all about being in the moment: she incorporates yoga into her workshops and advocates using your hands, unconventional and inexpensive tools (foam brushes, stencils) to make gorgeous abstract canvases: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eN4idXJjyZI
> 
> and:
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aNojnc4x78I


	12. [Still Flailing]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

“What is going on?” Jane said, when Brock dropped her off in the lab in the morning. He’d insisted they carpool together.

“I have no idea,” Darcy said, explaining what had happened the night before. Jane’s expression went from baffled to surprised to downright mirthful. “I’m trying to decide whether I should be relieved that he’s not freaking out or mad that I’m not getting any of that, you know?” Darcy said.

“That is _hilarious,”_ Jane said.

“It’s not that funny,” Darcy said.

“Sure it is,” Jane said. “No one would ever believe it!” She started to laugh and actually shook in her rolling office chair.

“Shut up, Jane.”

“Just tell him how you feel. Use your feeling words,” Jane said.

“I did, even if I couldn’t spell them,” Darcy said. “He hasn’t mentioned it.”

“No, he’s just romancing you platonically now,” Jane said.

“Whatever,” Darcy said sharply. She felt grumpy and irrationally pissed off. “I don’t have time for personal drama, I have two weeks worth of your emails to respond to _and_ I have a super elaborate wedding to plan.” Jane grinned. “Don’t smirk. Loki emailed me a note this morning. He loves the green and gold,” Darcy told her.

“Of course,” Jane said.

“It’s a yes on watercolor invites—he thinks he can do something magical with them, but he wants the base color of his geode cake to be a dark color and Jack wants a lot of greenery,” Darcy said. “I’m googling Midsummer Night’s Dream staging for inspiration.”

“So, we’re just moving to this now?” Jane said.

“Yes, Jane. Moving on. We’re not going to obsess about last night,” Darcy said.

“You’re not obsessing?” Jane said.

“No.”

“Okay.”

 

***

Darcy’s mood had not improved when she was midway through responding to Jane’s emails and calling bakers at eleven-forty-two. It dawned on her that she would need to make sure that anyone she hired to make the freaking cake was neither homophobic or Loki-phobic. By the second attempt at being tactful, she’d just given up and started to announce, “I’m planning a gay wedding for an Asgardian, you got a problem with that?” as her first screening question. Her more subtle approach just confused people.

“Thor?!” the baker on the other end said.

“Nooooo,” Darcy said slowly, “but we anticipate him being in the wedding party?” That was as close as she was getting to explaining it would be Loki.

“Wonderful!” the baker said chirply.

“Can you do an emerald green buttercream?” she asked. “Not fondant, he loathes fondant.”

“Ohhhh,” the baker said. “But fondant is so useful.” Darcy rolled her eyes at a giggling Jane.

 _“Stop laughing,”_ Darcy mouthed. The fondant vs. buttercream debate was starting to grate. Who even liked fondant? Why did everyone suggest fondant? She was beginning to loathe the word. Darcy hung up the phone after an assurance that emerald green buttercream could be made and sighed. “I feel like that person lied to me, Janey. Don’t ask me why. I’m having buttercream trust issues,” she told Jane.

“But buttercream loves you,” Jane said.

“We’re having issues today,” Darcy griped.

“Why don’t we all go get lunch downstairs?” Jane offered. “I’ll see where Thor is?”

“Nah, you go with him. I want to stew in my misery and sulk. I have protein bars and a bag of M&Ms, I’m good,” Darcy said. “I’m feeling anti-social. And tired.”

“Are you avoiding Brock?” Jane said.

“No!” Darcy said. She glared.

“Okay, okay,” Jane said, “I’m leaving now.” She thought she heard Jane muttering about PMS as she left.

“I heard that!” Darcy yelled. A few minutes later, Darcy’s phone dinged.

 

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Where are you? Just saw Jane and Thor and no you?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Lab.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** You want to go to lunch with me?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** Nah. I’ve got tons of emails to answer. Plus, I’m feeling bitchy. YOU’RE WARNED. [gif of Maleficient]

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Really?

 **World’s Okayest Assistant:** I should really be avoided. Seriously.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Okay.

 

“Dammit,” Darcy said out loud, “why am I disappointed that he does what I tell him?” She stared down at her phone and sighed. “I need freaking chocolate.” She ate M&Ms while answering emails until her eyes got heavy and she felt in danger of using a nasty tone just out of tiredness and/or annoyance. Another cup of coffee didn’t shake her bad mood.

 

She was so tired, grumpy, and out of sorts, she took off her regular shoes, put on her lab slippers and propped her feet up in another chair. Five minutes later, she was half-asleep under her coat when she felt a touch on her shoulder. “Darcy?” someone said softly. Her eyes opened slowly. The face in front of her was unexpected.

“Steve?” she said, sitting up sharply.

“Hi,” Steve said. A pair of blue eyes stared into hers. His expression was serious. “I’ve got pizza,” he said. “Saw Jane when she came to get Thor. She said you weren’t feeling well. Thought you might want some food?”

“You’re bringing me food?” she said, confused. She wiped her mouth awkwardly.

“Yeah,” he said. “Mind if I sit?”

“No,” Darcy said, still lost.

“Listen, Darce,” he said, rolling over a chair and sitting down, “there’s something I wanted to ask you? Have some pizza.”

“Okay,” Darcy said. She took a slice and was mid-bite when Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“I, uh, swore I wouldn’t do this,” he said. “I wanted to respect your privacy.” Darcy nodded, still chewing, and raised an eyebrow. “Are you seeing someone?” he asked. “I thought maybe you and Rumlow--”

“Me and Rumlow what?” Darcy said, hearing the note of tension in his voice.

“Were a couple,” he said quietly. “You’re together all the time…”

“So?” Darcy said.

“Well, I mean, it’s a reasonable assumption,” Steve said.

“No, why does it matter if he and I are seeing each other?” Darcy said, feeling a spike of irritation. Why were people so certain about her and Brock, anyway? She wasn’t sure about Brock, so it bothered her when other people were.

“So you are,” Steve said calmly, leaning back.

“Hold on, Steve. Rewind. Explain to me _why_ it matters?” Darcy yelled. “Because last I checked, you didn’t want to be publicly in a relationship with me, so it shouldn’t matter _at all_ if Brock and I are together now, because you don’t want a relationship with me.” Steve winced. Darcy followed the flickering movement of his gaze and turned her head. Several agents were walking by. Including Jack and another STRIKE guy. _Shit. Shit,_ Darcy thought. They had frozen at Darcy’s loud voice, then Jack glanced at her, pulled an apologetic face, and hurried off. The other agents did similar things. Doubtless, that bit of choice news would be all over the office by tomorrow. That brought Darcy back to reality. She’d yelled at _Captain America_ at work. Whoopsie-freaking-daisy. Bad, bad Darcy.

“Yeah,” Steve said. “When you put it that way, I’m overstepping.” He sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Darcy said. “Really sorry. I--I didn’t mean to yell that at work. When Jane said I wasn’t feeling well, she meant I’m totally having PMS and I’m pissed off like a rabid raccoon. Oh God. Sorry.”

“Are we both apologizing now?” he said, smiling and shaking his head.

“Pretty much?” Darcy offered. “But Steve--you should know, I don’t think we work. Not really.”

“You don’t?” Steve said. “Because I was pretty happy.”

“Steve, we hid our whole relationship. It took place totally within the confines of your apartment. As far as anyone but us knows, _it didn’t even happen._ You can have a lot more fun than that,” Darcy assured him. “Imagine taking a person you really, really like to Coney Island or something? A nice dinner? A freaking play?” Steve laughed.

“Coney Island, huh?” he said.

“Aim higher,” she said. “That’s all I’m saying. Get more out of your life, Stevie.”

“Just not with you?” he said. Darcy shook her head gently.  Steve nodded and brushed her hair out of her face a little. “He’s real lucky, Darce,” he said. “Especially for somebody from the Bronx.” The last was said with something of a playful lilt. Darcy didn’t actually believe Steve had been seething. Curious, yeah. But seething wasn’t exactly his style.

“Steve, he and I are just friends--” Darcy said. Steve huffed out a laugh.

“Uh-huh.” He swiped a piece of pizza. “Just friends. Friends who do everything together? What was it somebody said to me once? Wasn’t it, uh, get more out of your life?”

“Shut up!” Darcy said. “I’m still eating this pizza.”

“Enjoy your pizza,” he said, going for the door.

“There’s no shortage of interested ladies, Cap!” she yelled, in a more teasing voice. “Arlene in HR thinks you’re the bees’ knees!”

“There’s no Arlene in HR, you scalawag,” he said.

“Takes one to know one,” she teased back, more quietly. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Someone would probably pretend to be Arlene. Do you want me to get the word out? We could arrange for multiple Arlenes by midweek,” she suggested.

“Multiple Arlenes by midweek?” he said. “That’s okay, Darce.”

“Speaking of friends who do everything together, how’s the one-armed man?” she asked. Darcy had heard from Thor that Bucky had been de-brainwashed in Wakanda and was now seeking a pardon.

“He’s uh, in a need-to-know location, but doing pretty good,” Steve said.

“You could take him to Coney Island?” she said.

“How would I manage that? We’re a bit conspicuous.”

“Baseball caps, Stevie. Baseball caps.”

 

***

 

Darcy waited for Brock in SHIELD’s parking garage. His SUV pulled up and he leaned over and pushed open the passenger door. There was a small box of Raisinettes on the seat. “What’s that for?” Darcy asked.

“Today’s national chocolate-covered raisins day, they’re for you,” he said, as if it should be obvious.

“Awww,” she said, climbing in and buckling her seatbelt.

“You’re welcome,” he said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said. He was frowning. It worried her. “You okay?” Darcy asked.

“Heard Cap came to see you today,” Brock said.

“He stopped by, but it was no big deal,” she said. “He brought me some pizza and I grumped at him.”

“I would have bought you food, Lewis,” he said.

“But I don’t have any reason to grump at you,” Darcy said.

“You don’t, huh?” Brock said.

“Nope,” she said tentatively. She thought he looked too serious. “Don’t worry, Cap doesn’t upset me.”

“No? I heard there was some yelling,” he said.

“A little, but he deserved it,” Darcy said. Brock laughed. They drove mostly in silence. A nervous Darcy thought of several new topics but couldn’t think of where to start. He pulled up at her apartment, but didn’t uncrank the car. “Did you want to come in, celebrate Raisinette Day with me?” Darcy asked.

“I would, but I’ve got a thing,” Brock said. He added. “With Jack.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, trying to hide her disappointment. “I know I’m going to be busy with the wedding but once that’s over would you like to…” He raised an eyebrow. Darcy wanted to say _go on a date with me_ , but his serious expression threw her and she panicked. “Go to a ravioli class with me?” she finished awkwardly.

“Ravioli class?” Brock said.

“I—I’ve always wanted to learn how to make ravioli,” Darcy said, a bit desperately. “Is it hard?”

“Hard?” he said, looking at her like she was crazy.

“Uhhhh”— _shit—_ “I mean, difficult. Difficult to make the dough,” Darcy corrected. “Technically?”

“It’s not so bad,” he said, grinning. “I think you could handle it.”

“Oh, okay,” Darcy said. “I should go. Let you go. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight?” Brock said.

“Yeah, have, um, fun?” A panicky, nervous Darcy leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. _Why did I do that again?_ she thought, horrified, as soon as her mouth brushed against him. He’d turned his head a fraction, so she got the corner of his mouth and a stubbly cheek. _Oh no. No. No, no, no,_ Darcy thought. She practically threw herself out of the SUV and bolted.

“Darcy!” he yelled. She froze.

“Shit,” Darcy said in a low voice. Then she turned and walked back to the rolled down window.

“You forgot your Raisinettes,” he said.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, utterly humiliated.

“What if I stop by later?” Brock said. “To, uh, celebrate  National Raisinette Day with you?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “That would be good. I mean, if you’re not busy?”

 

***

 

“Ma,” Brock said into the phone, “I need you to send me a recipe for ravioli.”

“Ravioli?” Angela asked.

“Darcy wants to go to ravioli class? But. I thought I could teach her alone—”

“There are classes just for ravioli?” Angela said.

“I dunno, not the point, Ma. I need a recipe. A good one,” he said.

“You can’t take her out for ravioli for your date instead?”

“We aren’t really dating like that, that’s why I need the recipe,” Brock said. “You know how I feel about her.”

“This is the strangest relationship you’ve ever been in,” she said.

“I know, we’re a little stuck, but I wanna fix it,” he said.

“When are you seeing her again?” she said.

“I’m going back over there tonight, might spend the night again. It depends on if she wants me to, Ma,” he said.

“You’re not dating, but you’ve spent the night?” his mother asked.

“We cuddle. She likes cuddling. There’s no sex,” Brock said.

“Okay,” Angela said skeptically.

“She has kissed me a few times. Little kisses. But she hasn’t asked for sex yet,” he explained.

“For God’s sake, get her drunk,” Angela said. “She’s probably nervous.”

“Ma, that’s not how people do things now. You can’t just get somebody drunk. You need enthusiastic consent,” he said.

“Please,” Angela said. “No woman wants to take her clothes off for the first time totally sober, it’s too clinical. I remember I was so crazy about your father, my hands would shake. I had about four Tom Collinses on our first date and everything went fine.”

“I didn’t need to know you two had sex on your first date,” he said. “And weren’t you nineteen? How were you drinking?”

“It was the seventies, everyone had sex on the first date, people were much freer. This generation has been so scared by all that abstinence only stuff, you really need to have sex already before one of you gets a complex,” Angela suggested. “What if you’re so wound up you can’t achieve orgasm?”

“Oh God, Ma,” he said.

“How will I ever have grandchildren if you’re going around cuddling women?” Angela said. “And the drinking age was eighteen in the seventies. You were conceived under the influence of legal alcohol.”

“Ma,” he said. “Ravioli. Focus.”

  
***

 

Darcy was trying to get a lotus flower right on a mini canvas and had Loki on speakerphone to talk about invitation magic. “I just wanted you to know you can do all kinds of fonts, not just the one from the sample invite I got you,” she told him. He was going to magic the text of the emerald-green invitations so they flashed between good English cursive and Asgardian runes.

“How many?” he asked.

“Infinite, just not Comic Sans. It’s the clown font,” she told him.

“My brother has his own font?” he said playfully. “How charming.”

“Someone’s in a good mood,” Darcy said. He had been delightfully arch and almost silly-sounding during their conversation. “When are you going to go sample cakes?”

“A few days, perhaps,” he said. “Jack has recovered from this dreary night field certification. Did you know that Sharon Carter once kicked your beloved during one of them?”

“Wha--he is not my beloved! But why did Sharon kick him?” Darcy said.

“Apparently, Rumlow commented approvingly on her physique, so she kicked him,” Loki said. “She has spirit. It is really too bad that Captain Rogers regards her as a surrogate niece, she might be able to liven him up.”

“I never thought about them as a couple. How funny. I’m working on Jack’s greenery, by the way. Putting together a mood board on Pinterest,” Darcy said. They’d decided she only had to give him inspirational images of typical Midgardian weddings, then he could magic up everything but the food. Thank goodness. That was, like, 80% of the work, right there. Providing inspiration was way easier. But she still had to handle the cake and catering.

“You are a most useful wedding planner,” he said. “I think you missed your calling. Are you going to give him a key?”

“Huh?” Darcy said, as she dabbed paint circles on her canvas with a sponge brush corner.

“You have a key to his place, why doesn’t he have a key to yours?” he suggested.

“I do have an extra,” Darcy said. They were still talking about wedding stuff when she heard Brock in the hallway. “He’s here!” she said.

“Why are you whispering?” Loki asked.

“I don’t know!” Darcy said. “I gotta go, byeeeeee.” She hung up and looked at the door. He rapped cleanly and said her name. “I’ll be right there!” she called. Darcy swung the door open, wiping paint off her hands.

“Hey,” he said. She was still looking at her hands, so it was a surprise when she looked up and saw the bruise across his cheek.

“Oh my God, did you hit on Sharon Carter again?” she said.

“What? No. No! How did you know about that?” he said, looking horrified.

“Loki,” Darcy said. “I think I need to wash this blue off with soap. C’mon in, lock the door.” He followed her into the kitchen. Darcy turned to say something, then realized he was right behind her. “Whoa,” she said.

“Sorry,” he said, swallowing. “I, uh, got hit during the exercises. It was a gun. Not Carter.”

“Someone hit you with a gun?” Darcy said.

“Accident,” he said. “He turned too quickly, clocked me in the head. We were in one of those things, the ditches?” he said. “Shit. What’s it called?”

“How hard did he hit you? Sit down. I’ll get ice,” she said. She led him to the couch, then went to the freezer for ice cubes. Filling a ziploc, she brought it to him, wrapped in a dishtowel. “Here you go,” she said.

“It’s going to make me crazy if I can’t remember that damn word,” Brock said.

“Foxhole,” Darcy supplied. “You want some of your lasagna?”

“Yeah, that’s it--it’s not mine, it’s for you,” he said, ice pack slipping a little. “I asked her to do it for you. Or us. You know what I mean.”

“Oh,” Darcy said, not knowing at all. She turned on the oven. “Put your ice pack back on.”

“Sure,” he said, grinning. “Probie agent clocked me good. Oh, I forgot,” he said. “I haven’t given this to you yet.” He fished a box out of his pocket and sat it on her coffee table.

“What is it?” she said.

“Your present,” he said. “I got it in Hawaii. From the jewelry woman you accused me of flirting with.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Did you want me to open it?”

“What is up with you tonight? You love presents. Get over here,” he said. She stopped her nervous fiddling with the lasagna and came over to sit next to him.

“Okay?” she said. “Hit me with this present, Commander.” He grinned around the drippy ice pack and put it in her hands. She popped the box open. “Oh my God,” she said.

“Is that a good reaction or a bad reaction?” he said. “I know you said you wanted flowers in Hawaii, so I got you flowers.” The earrings inside the little box were silver lotuses made out of fine wire.

“I love them,” she said. She looked at him. “I really love them.”

“Yeah?” he said, still holding the ziploc of ice.

“Totally,” she said, sliding over to hug him gently. She put her face against his neck on his uninjured side. Inhaling, she hummed without meaning to and then immediately felt awkward. She cut her eyes at him. He was watching her carefully with his uncovered eye.

“Darcy?” he said.

“Mmmm?” she said, letting go and sitting back up a fraction. She looked at him. He was looking at her. He inhaled and seemed ready to begin. _Is he going to say something,_ she thought. _Okay, okay, you can deal--_ there was a loud beep. Her oven was hot. “Ooops,” she said, hopping up. “Your mom’s lasagna,” she said, trying to pretend everything was normal and that they hadn’t just had, like, a moment. Featuring intense eye contact.

“You keep saying that,” he said, laughing, as she put the lasagna in and then futzed with putting her new earrings on.

“What do you mean?” she said, trying to slide the back in blind and succeeded in poking her earlobe. “Ow.”.

“C’mere,” he said. She sat next to him and got goosebumps as he put her earring in.

“My mother owns a restaurant,” he said. “But Ma didn’t actually make that, Juan the chef did. She loves food, but she hasn't seriously cooked since about 2009. She lives on protein bars and whatever the restaurant doesn't sell.”

“You’re kidding,” Darcy said.

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head. "I mean, they use her recipes at work and she tastes everything, but she's strictly a supervising force. She used to cook at home, but when my father died, she hung up her home apron, too."

"Awww, that's sad," Darcy said.

"Is it? The sous chef was happy. Everybody got a promotion and she's much less tough on them than she is on herself."

"Oh, that doesn't sound like  _anybody_ I know," Darcy teased.

”Are you making fun of the injured?” he asked.

”Maybe,” Darcy said, feeling a tiny bubble of bravery. “But I think the injured should stay for dinner and sleep here, to make sure he’s okay? How’s that sound?”

”Does the injured get to be held? I think I need holding,” he said.

”Did you want to be the little spoon?”

 

***

“See? You like being the little spoon,” she told him, resting her cheek against his shoulder blades. She liked it, too. She could gawk at him without feeling like he could see her awestruck expression whenever he wiggled and there was yet more visible freaking muscle. It was really, frankly amazing. And she got to be in proximity!

“This is emasculating,” he muttered. Darcy put her arms around his stomach and squeezed.

“You’re facing the door, I still feel very protected and sheltered here behind you,” Darcy said. “Also, I get the nicest views of your tats.”

“Thank you,” he said, sounding a little glum still. “Why is your rock changing colors?”

“Excuse me, that is a color-changing Himalayan sea salt lamp, not a rock,” she said.

“What the hell is it for?” he said, chuckling. “It looks like Star Trek.”

“It purifies the air. Supposedly. Jane says the science is bunk, but I like them. That’s one, too, it just doesn’t change colors,” she said, pointing to her other lamp.

“That’s what it looks like when it’s not green? Oh, wait, now it’s purple. And it’s turning red,” he said dryly, as her color-changing lamp cycled.

“Is this going to bug you? Do I need to turn the lamp off?” she said, rubbing his belly like he was a stressed puppy. A very yummy stressed puppy.

“No,” he said. “That feels good.” He sighed.

“What?” Darcy said, pausing. “If the lamp is keeping you from sleeping…”

“No, no,” he said. “It’s not the lamp. Don’t stop.”

“Well, what is it?” she said, rubbing the back of his arm. She traced his tattoo with her index finger. “If you don’t want to stay?” she offered.

“I do want to stay here,” he said quietly.

“Yeah?”

“What if I, uh, stayed with you for awhile?” he said.

“You want to move in?” Darcy said, propping herself up on an elbow in surprise. “With me? Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, frowning at the door and hunching slightly. “But if you hate the idea….”

“Nope,” she said.

“No? Okay,” he said, exhaling. “I’m not upset--”

“No, I don’t hate the idea, goober,” she said, squeezing him a little when she realized he thought she’d turned him down. “It would be fun. Like a permanent vacation. When can you move your stuff in?”

“Oh. Oh,” he said. “Tomorrow? I’ll just bring clothes and stuff.” Darcy snuggled him again and he sighed. “A permanent vacation,” he said.

“You realize this means you’ll get shanghai’d into the big Asgardian wedding planning and you hate weddings,” she pointed out.

“I don’t hate weddings,” he grumbled.

“Sure you don’t,” she said.

“I don’t,” he said stubbornly.

“Brock?” she said, wondering if she should bring up sex.

“Yeah?” He half-turned his head to look at her. _God, he was so sexy,_ she thought, breath catching. “What is it?” he asked. She could feel the heat rising in her chest and face when he looked at her like that.

“I can really turn off the lamp, if you want?” Darcy lied, mentally scolding her ovaries for what she was thinking.

“No, it’s okay,” he said, turning back around. “I want to be the big spoon tomorrow night.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The earrings look like this in my head: https://www.satyajewelry.com/products/silver-lotus-earrings-teardrop-lotus
> 
>  


	13. Baby

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

“Hey, Little Spoon,” a voice said.

“Hmmm?” Darcy said, opening her eyes. Brock was leaning over her, already dressed.

“Made you coffee,” he said, setting her unicorn mug on the nightstand.

“Thank you. What time is it?” Darcy asked, befuddled. Was it still dark? It seemed dark.

“Five. I’m headed to the gym. I’ll be back at seven,” he said. “You wanna carpool?”

“Yeah,” she said, eyes already half-closed again. No one but gym maniacs, second shifters, and serial killers were awake at five, Darcy had long ago decided.

“Good,” he said. He smiled and then moved away. She yawned and her eyes fluttered.

“Brock?” she said. He turned back.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Your key’s in the kitchen drawer. Scooby Doo”--yawn--“keychain thingy?” she said.

“Okay,” he said. “I’ll see you in a while. Get some sleep.”

“Okey-dokey,” she said. “Bye-bye, Big Spoon.” She heard the door shut and lock a few moments later. Darcy lifted her head, took a gulp of coffee, and then settled back on her pillow. Her alarm wouldn’t go off for more than an hour. She’d worried about how she and Brock would negotiate sharing a bathroom, but that was pretty seamless, wasn’t it? She’d been worried over nothing. He’d get up at the crack of dawn and she’d have a bathroom all to herself. Also, he’d made her favorite vanilla coffee. She was so going to give Jane crap about Brock being the superior roommate, Darcy thought, before she drifted off again.

 

She was awake and shuffling around when he got back. “Hey, you’re back! I got you a surprise,” Darcy said. “Or found you a surprise. I think you’ll like it.”

“What kind of a surprise?” he asked, setting his gym bag down.

“Do you remember that Keri Smith book you liked? _How To Be An Explorer of the World?_ I found an extra copy of her _Wreck This Journal_ when I was moving some book bags and clearing some space for you in my closet,” Darcy explained.

“You cleared space for me?” he said, sounding delighted.

“Yup. I think you’ll love this, too,” she said. “It’s all prompts. I’m going to get dressed,” Darcy said. Smiling, he picked up the book. When she came back into the living room, he was poking holes in one of the journal pages with a pencil. He looked up at her.

“This is so much fucking fun,” Brock said, grinning.

“You jump out of planes as a regular work thing!” Darcy said.

“But they still don’t want us poking holes in the manuals,” he said. "That statistics analysis manual, I want to poke holes in that sonofabitch."

"You are the funniest person I've ever met," Darcy said. 

 

***

“I have coffee. Coffees, coffees, coffees!” Darcy singsonged, as she entered the lab.

“Hi,” Jane said, “please tell me one of those is a double shot mocha.”

“You know it,” Darcy told her. She hummed a little. “I got a croissant for you, too. Chocolate, chocolate, chocolate!” Jane grinned.

“I love you,” the scientist said. “I’m getting you that custom World’s Okayest Assistant mug.”

“Presents? For little old me?” Darcy said, delighted.

“Darce, I have major news,” Jane said, lowering her voice.

“Yeah?” Darcy said. She expected an engagement and looked at Jane’s finger. Jane caught her look and shook her head.

“Not that. You know how Thor has _dreams?”_ Jane said significantly. She meant his visions. They kept them on the down low at SHIELD, nervous that someone would want to weaponize them.

“Yeah?” Darcy said.

“He had a baby dream,” Jane said. "Him and me and a baby."

“You’re gonna have a baby?!” Darcy squealed.

“If it comes true...but we’re going to try,” Jane said. “Shhhh, I don’t want someone to know about the dreams.”

“Okay. But oh em gee! You’re already totally glowing. It’s going to happen,” Darcy said, hugging her. She did a little happy side to side with Jane, swaying back and forth. “I’m so excited! I really want to be an aunt,” Darcy said. Which was totally true: all her baby dreams revolved around Jane and Thor having an adorable offspring she could spoil and take to amusement parks and stuff.

 

***

“I’m in love with her,” Brock said. They were headed down to the range. Jack looked at him with a curious head tilt. “Darcy,” Brock said, thinking Jack didn’t understand.

“This is just bloody occurring to you?” Jack said.

“No,” Brock said, “I mean, it’s been since—”

“The day you met?” Jack said archly. "Bloody hell," he muttered.

“Yeah,” Brock said quietly. “Don't look at me like that. She’s just never seen me the same way. How do I get her to see me as, uh, like a sexy guy?”

“How do you normally do it, mate?” Jack asked.

“I just show up,” Brock said, shrugging. “This is a new fucking thing for me, sleeping with someone, being together, but not having sex. Usually, I have the opposite problem, you know that.”

“Uh-huh,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. Nobody ever accused Brock Rumlow of having low self-esteem.

“I like it, though, the cuddling and living together and all that,” Brock said. Jack stopped, stood still for a second, and looked at Brock. He didn’t know about the living together thing.

“She’s moving in with you?” he said.

“No, I’m moving in with her,” Brock said. “We decided last night. I’m thinking if it works out, I’ll see if someone wants to sublet my place.”

“Hughes is looking,” Jack said. Brock nodded.

“I just gotta get her to see me as a guy,” Brock said firmly. “Let’s go shoot some paper terrorists.”

  


***

 

“Hey,” Darcy said, waving to him when he and Jack entered the cafeteria. “Small note: Jane had a major announcement today, so I haven’t told her that we’re living together because I don’t wanna steal her spotlight.”

“They engaged?” Brock said, looking at a buoyant Thor and Jane in the cafeteria line.

“Nope. Bigger. Baby making plans,” Darcy whispered. “We’re going out tonight at eight to celebrate, do you want to come, too? Jane and I decided it's a Maybe Baby party.”

“Yeah,” Brock said. “Of course.”

“Do you need to move stuff in tonight?” she asked.

“I can bring a few things after work,” he said.

“I can help, if you want,” Darcy offered, smiling at him. He wondered if he should ask about the duration.

“Hughes needs a place to stay, so I’m letting him crash there,” Brock said. “He just transferred in from Sausalito.”

“Would he want to sublet your place?” Darcy said.

“Maybe,” Brock said. Actually, Hughes would definitely sublet. “I could ask him about the whole month?” he said carefully. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye.

“Why not longer?” Darcy asked.

“Can you put up with me for three months?” he asked.

“I was thinking six,” Darcy said brightly.

“Really?” he said.

“Uh-huh,” she said. "Oh, I've got to get you to listen to Lucinda Williams's "Changed the Locks" sometime. I realized that today," she told him, interlacing their fingers. 

 _Six months_ , Brock thought.  _How do I play this right?_

"You hungry?" Darcy asked.

"Very."

 

***

The Maybe Baby shindig was fun, Brock realized. Jane was positively beaming. Everyone at the table was beaming, it dawned on him. He looked at Darcy. "Is something going on?" he asked.

“It’s Thor’s mojo,” she whispered. She was having a strawberry margarita and grinned back at Brock. Her cheeks were flushed. They sort of matched her margarita.

“Huh?” he said.

“Thor’s got a little fertility god mojo, that’s why everyone’s looking so much like a commercial for tours of Napa Valley,” she said. She slurred it playfully, so it sounded like _vall-eeeeeee._

“That right?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Uh-huh,” she said. “All golden and glowy.”

“You want more food?” he said. “That’s your third strawberry.”

“Pfffht, I can handle my strawberries,” Darcy insisted. She rolled her eyes at him.

“Still, I’ll get you more quesadillas,” he said, trying not to stare at her mouth around the straw. Darcy leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“You are the best roommate. Way better than Jane,” Darcy told him. “She never made me coffee.”

“Oh yeah? How are her snuggles?” he teased. Darcy laughed.

“Shut up, I never snuggled with her. She’s got pokey elbows, you gorgeous idiot,” Darcy said.

“What?” Brock said. Had she heard him stutter a little?

“Oh, like you don’t know,” Darcy said.

“I’m confused. Explain it to me,” he said, tilting his chin down and looking at her intently.

“She’s got like pointy ballerina elbows. Pretty but deadly,” Darcy said. She mimed stabbing him with her elbows.

“No, the next part? What you called me?” Brock said.

“You’re not _really_ an idiot,” Darcy said.

“Am I gorgeous?” He could feel himself grinning.

“Pffffht, you know that, too,” Darcy said, waving her hand dismissively and brushing against his forearm. “Whoops,” she said. “I didn’t get you with my nails, did I?”

“Nah,” he said. He leaned over slightly, taking her hand under the table, and whispered in her ear. “I’m looking forward to it, though. You getting me with those nails.” Darcy almost spit out some margarita.

“The mojo is in your system!” she said, looking alarmed. “Do you feel funny?”

  


“Do you want kids?” Brock said, as he carried her into the apartment that night. He was afraid she might fall.

“Nah, I’m gonna be a really kickass aunt,” Darcy said, waving her hand airily. “Jane will do her Science thang, Thor’s gonna be a stay at home dad, and I’m going to spoil them totally and be the emergency person if something happens. We decided in 2014. 2015? I dunno. I’m not patient enough for full time mama-hood.”

“That’s too bad,” Brock said.

“Oh?”

“Ma will be disappointed,” he said. “She likes buying baby stuff.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I do want a Boston Terrier, though. I’m gonna name him Donut. Or Cary Grant. I haven’t decided.”

“Cary Grant?” Brock said. “You want to name a dog that?”

“They both wear tuxes!” she said. “Put me on the couch, Hot Roomie.”

“Did you just call me hot?” Brock said, carrying her to the bedroom. The Boston Terrier thing confirmed that she shouldn’t be walking.

“Totally. It’s just a factual observation, don’t be upset. Oh. Oh. Oh. Your mom can totally buy little outfits for Cary Grant, if she wants. They make small dog strollers, too. Just like baby stuff, only with paw prints. I snuck my friend’s elderly chihuahua into Old Navy in a stroller once. Nobody even noticed, except one five year old. It was great,” she said, as he put her down gently. “Everyone thought Rocco was just a regular baby.”

“I let you drink too much,” he said, sighing. “I should have stopped you at that third margarita.”

“No way,” Darcy said. “I’ve been having such a great time since you moved in with me. You’re not allowed to leave. Ever.” She wagged a finger at him and listed to the side, then righted herself after he caught her.

“Here, scooch to the center of the bed,” he said, smiling.

“Thank you. See this is why you can’t leave!”

“I’m not allowed to leave, huh?” he said, going for the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” she called.

“I have to pee, drunk girl!” he said, half shutting the door.

“Oh em gee, I’m that SNL skit. Does it make you feel awkward? I’m sorry. I wonder if Jane is pregnant yet? Loki seems happy, I was a little worried--ooof, shit.” There was a small thump.

“Are you okay?” he said, sticking his head out as he washed his hands. Her boot was sitting in the middle of the bedroom floor.

“My shoe went projectile. Also, I’m having trouble with my pants,” Darcy said. Her leggings were half-stuck on her calves and feet. She had her legs in the air and was trying to pry them off.

“Uh-huh,” he said. “You need me to help you out of your pants?” He started to laugh. She was going to be the death of him.

“Don’t laugh, I’m trapped in these leggings,” Darcy said. She smiled at him, biting her lower lip, and he felt more than a spike of arousal. But she was drunk. Almost giddily so. She’d been clinging to him all night. Touching him. He let his eyes linger.

“Your polka dot underwear is very cute,” he said, looking down at her as he unthreaded the leggings over her toes. He could feel himself smirking and tried to reel it back in. It was difficult not to run his hand down her thighs.

“Thank you,” she said. “You saved me.”

“Not a problem,” he said. “You want some pajamas?” He went over to her dresser before she replied and gave her back a set covered in cacti, trying not to look at the other options in the drawer. “I’m going to take a shower,” he announced. “But I’ll get you some water first. You ought to rehydrate.”

 

***

 

“Rehydrate?” Darcy said, befuddled, as she watched him leave the room to retrieve a bottled water. One of his fancy ones. He gave it to her and then shut the bathroom door as she lay there in her shirt and underwear. Did he not want to have sex with her? Was her mascara all smeared or something? “Well shit,” she muttered, as she put her cactus pants on. He’d totally ignored the sexier pajamas she’d shifted to the top of the drawer when she made him space. As she listened to the shower run and drank water, she tried to puzzle it out. She’d gotten definite vibes tonight and now he was just _showering?_ Ugh. She tried to think positively, but really, if you didn’t want to have sex with someone in the wake of being around fertility mojo for hours, you never wanted to have sex with them, did you?

 

She woke up a few hours later and had to disentangle herself from his arms. “Where y’going?” he murmured.

“I gotta pee,” she grumbled. She did have to pee something fierce. She frowned at her reflection in the bathroom mirror: hair wild, makeup smeared, face puffy. _Well, no damn wonder he’s not interested, I look awful._ She cleaned herself up a little and tiptoed back out. When she came back to bed, he was snoring softly. He looked so cute asleep. She stroked his hair and he stirred. Brock had left his phone in bed, she realized. She picked it up, expecting emails (best case) or nudes from some woman (worst case), but was surprised when she curiously swiped the screen. He’d been looking at Boston Terriers on Petfinder. “Awwwww,” Darcy said out loud. She climbed into bed with him. Wrapping her arms around him, she whispered, “I love you.” To her shock, his eyes opened slightly.

“How come you only say that when you’re drunk?” he said in a sleepy-sounding voice. Embarrassed, Darcy ducked her face against his neck.

“Shut up, I thought you were asleep,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” he said, towing her body closer. “I love you, too.”

“Yeah?” she said, unable to keep the delight out of her voice.

“Mmmm-hmmm,” he said.

“You want to co-parent Cary Grant with me?” she asked, scratching the clipped hair at the back of his head.

“Yeah,” he said. “I do. Ma will need an adjustment period, though.” He groaned a little.

“Too much?” she said, pausing.

“Just right,” he said. “Don’t stop.”   
  


***

"Jane," Darcy said, the next morning in the lab.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think Brock, like, maybe,  _doesn't_ have sex? Ever?" she asked. "What if it's a HYDRA serum side effect?"

"My money's on steroids," Jane said. 

"That is profoundly unhelpful," Darcy grumbled, slumping down.

"Someone's grumpy 'cause the cupcakes are behind glass," Jane observed, as Darcy put her cheek on her desk.

"God, yes, I totally am. I want the cupcakes. I want to stuff them in my mouth," Darcy said, sighing. Jane dissolved into giggles at Darcy's petulant expression.

"Tell him," she said, between bouts of laughter, "tell him that you really need a cupcake." She laughed harder.

"What?" Darcy said.

"If he doesn't get it, text him a photo of those bachelorette ones with the penises."

"Ugh, I want to yell at you, but you're so right."

 

 **World's Okayest Assistant:**  I really need a cupcake tonight [wink emoji]

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** I'll get you one.

 **World's Okayest Assistant:** Would you? I wasn't sure you wanted to give me cupcakes.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** Of course I do.

 **Commander Thief of Stuey:** What kind of cupcake, honey? Vanilla? Something else?

 

"Oh God, he totally doesn't get the cupcake-as-sex metaphor," Darcy told Jane. "He's just asked if I want chocolate or vanilla." Jane laughed, then stopped when Darcy glared at her.

"Suggest Italian cream cake and see if he gets any ideas," Jane said wryly.

 

 **World's Okayest Assistant:** A really yummy one? That maybe looks like this? [photo]

 

"Why the fuck does she want a cupcake with a dick on it?" Brock said aloud. He was walking towards his vehicle with some of the STRIKE guys.

"Bachelor party? For Jack and Loki?" Hernandez said. 

"Shit. I totally forgot their stuff would have dicks on it," Brock said. "Thanks, man."

"Who really knows what Loki's equipment looks like, though?" one of the other guys said with a chuckle.

"That is not a question I would ask him. Or Jack," Hernandez said. 

"They're a little sensitive about sex," Brock said. "I didn't even think they'd want dick cupcakes and shit like that."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspiration: the She & Him song of the same name: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pKc8UfFn-yo


	14. The Tears of Cherry Garcia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for your comments and kudos!

A hopeful Darcy dragged Jane to Victoria’s Secret after work. “You’re really doing this?” Jane asked as they walked in. “Why is the music so loud here?”

“Don’t you need a baby-making outfit?” Darcy cajoled. “Help me find something. Anything. Then I can help you, okay?”

“This is sad. You’re over thirty, he’s almost fifty and you can’t ask for sex?” Jane said. Several people stared at them.

“A, overshare. B, he’s only forty-three, that’s not fifty,” Darcy said.

“Sure it is,” Jane said.

“You want me to start telling people you’re almost forty?” Darcy said archly.

“Okay, shut up,” Jane grumbled. “Let’s find you terrible anti-feminist underwear for stupid male gaze reasons.”

“I’m not sure he even realizes I’m female. But he wants to co-parent Cary Grant with me,” Darcy said.

“Your imaginary dog?” Jane said, thumbing through the racks of silky lingerie.

“I caught him browsing Petfinder for Boston Terriers the same night I mentioned it and then he said that he loved me,” Darcy whispered.

“I don’t see why you need this, then,” Jane said.

“I don’t know, I’m just dying of frustration. Is it possible for your ovaries to, like, throw a tantrum with enough exposure to someone hunky? What did yours do when Thor was MIA?” Darcy said.

“You’ve forgotten my weeping with Ben & Jerry phase?” Jane said.

“Oh, yeah, I totally forgot about the tears of Cherry Garcia,” Darcy said. “What’s the sexiest color? Black makes me looks so pale. Red? Blue?”

“Red,” Jane said, offering up a teddy.

“This is it, you’re a genius,” Darcy said.

“I know.”

 

***

 

Darcy had the pink bag tucked under her coat when she walked into the apartment. “Hey, baby,” Brock said, “lemme wash my hands.”

“What are you doing?” Darcy said. There were things all over the kitchen.

“Getting started on our ravioli class,” he said, scrubbing his hands. “Measuring out the ingredients. Ma sent me a simple recipe, I thought we could try it at home to celebrate living together? You game?”

“Great,” she said, grinning. “How scary is it?”

“We can totally handle it, baby, hand to God,” he said. “I got a pasta machine and everything.”

“Okay,” she said, hiding the bag behind her back.

“What you got there?” he said.

“Um, nothing?” she said.

“Don’t you lie to me when I’m giving you the recipe for my nonna’s ravioli,” he said, stepping towards her. His smirk was almost predatory. Darcy tried to back away.

“Okay. I am going to change. I’ll be right back--” she said grinning and trying to head towards the bedroom. He cut her off and somehow got her against a wall.

“Nuh-uh,” he said. “You gotta show me that first.” He bracketed her body with his arms. Her heart was racing.

“It’s a surprise,” she whispered, feeling the heat rise in her chest.

“Yeah? I like surprises,” he said, leaning in close. _What if he went all weird on her,_ Darcy fretted.

“No,” she whispered.

“Okay,” he said, smirking at her. “You’re blushing. Why are you blushing, huh?” He put his arms around her waist, brushing his forehead against the top of her head. That was all the encouragement she needed.

“I went lingerie shopping,” she said tentatively, sliding the pink bag out from behind her back. “I was hoping someone would want to get in my lingerie sometime?” Darcy said. He grinned at her.

“Oh, yeah?” Brock said. “I might know a guy with an interest.” He was teasing her now, she thought. Something joyful bubbled up in her chest when he pulled her closer. Darcy nuzzled at him and realized a muscle jumped in his neck.

“What was that?” she whispered.

“A natural reaction to intense emotion,” he said.

“Mmmm,” she said thoughtfully. “Did you want to feel more of them?”

“Yeah,” he said, swallowing. She kissed the corner of his mouth--enjoying the sensation of stubble against her lips--and he smiled and turned his head, chasing a fuller kiss. Before she could tease him about finally making a move, he’d wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed his mouth against hers. He sucked at her top lip and she felt like she could melt. So she did. She dropped the bag on the floor.

“Oh, that was good, really good,” Darcy said, as he released her. His expression was ambiguous, but intense. “You okay?” Darcy said. She wasn’t. Grinning, he shook his head.

“Nope, but I’m going to, uh, go back to that ravioli,” he said. He returned to the kitchen, but she caught that jump of muscle in his neck again and grinned. Was he nervous about having sex tonight? Could they postpone ravioli, Darcy wondered?

“Oh, I got you those cupcakes, too, baby,” he said, waving a fork towards a box on the counter.

“You got cupcakes?” she said, heart sinking. She walked over and peered into the box, still hiding her bag. Inside were several rows of vanilla and chocolate cupcakes decorated with some very pert anatomy.

“The penis thing threw me for a loop, until we figured out it was a bachelor party thing for Loki and Jack,” he said. “I called that bakery you got Jane’s birthday cake from? Those are some realistic dicks.”

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “I’ve never seen them so...upright before? Usually, they’re, uh, more--”

“Not semi-erect?” he said, smirking. “I went with fleshtone, baby, because I didn’t know if blue ones would hurt Loki’s feelings?”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I really hadn’t thought that out.” He cracked an egg into his well of flour.

“Go on and change, I think you’ll like these ravioli. Four cheese,” he said. Darcy repressed a sigh.

 

Darcy went into the bedroom, picked up her pillow and fake-screamed into it. When she set the pillow back down, she really just wanted to cry out of intense sexual frustration. _He’d gotten actual freaking cupcakes? What even was her life?_ She huffed out a sigh at the pink bag and stashed in the closet. If they were actually cooking, yoga pants and t-shirt was fine. Jesus.

 

“The dough is the scariest part, but I think I can work it all out,” he announced, when she padded back into the kitchen. “I did this sometimes when I was young,” he told her.

“Yeah?” Darcy said. He’d made a pile of flour, scooped out the center, and had an egg in the center. “You start with the egg in there?”

“Yeah, c’mere,” he said, pulling her in front of him. “Mix the egg with me?” he said, putting the fork in her hand and guiding her. Darcy tried not to be distracted by his closeness. “You stir the egg, then gradually mix in the flour,” he told her. “Good. See how that’s working?” he said.

“I’m totally mastering dough,” Darcy cracked. “I got the dough.”

“Yeah you are. Now we add in another yolk,” he told her. She watched as he separated the white and the yolk smoothly.  Within a few minutes, they had a small yellow ball of dough.

“Is that big enough?” Darcy said. It seemed awfully small.

“Good things in small packages, baby,” Brock said slyly. She leaned up and kissed him on the chin. He grinned. “I’m going to cheat a little and knead this with your fancy Kitchenaid,” he said. He gave her the job of mixing the filling while he monitored the dough. He’d already grated the cheeses for her, so she just had to mix the parmesan, fontina, and mozzarella into the ricotta. “Here,” he said, passing her an egg. “Mix that egg up and slap it in there,” he said.

“With my fingers?” she said archly.

“I’ll get you a whisk,” he said, squeezing her and moving past her to get the utensil from the drawer.

“Did you just get flour on my ass?” Darcy said. He leaned against her and breathed on the edge of her ear.

“What are you going to do about it?” he said. Heedless of her egg, she set it on the counter and turned to grab the front of his shirt, pulling him towards her. “What are you--?” he began, as the egg rolled off the counter and landed with a splat on the floor. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“Kiss me again,” she said. Something shifted in his expression and he’d lifted her onto the counter before she said anything else. His was kissing her hungrily as she fumbled for his shirt hem. They had to disentangle for her to pull the t-shirt over his head.

“You’re ready?” he said, chest rising and falling. She reached out to touch him purely out of desire, raking her fingers across his bare skin.

“God, yes,” Darcy said. “Those cupcakes were a freaking _euphemism_ , okay? I was trying to be subtle with my work sexting!” He started to laugh.

“I’m supposed to know you meant sex when you love cupcakes more than anybody I know?” he said.

“The key word was penis,” she said. “You’re supposed to pay attention when I send the winky emoji and then follow it up with a penis-themed request.”

“Oh, yeah?” he said, turning off her mixer. “I’m paying attention now.”

“You’re abandoning ravioli?”

“Dough’s gotta rest for thirty minutes,” he said, pulling her in for a kiss. “Couch?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

She was undoing his belt when his phone rang. The emergency ringtone. “No, no, no,” Brock muttered, breaking their embrace. “Not tonight,” he said.

“Answer the phone,” Darcy said, her voice muffled. She’d leaned against his neck to slow her heart rate.

“No,” he said stubbornly, reaching for her waist.

“Brock,” Darcy said. “You have an important job.”

“Fuck it,” he said. “Let Jack be in charge of shooting people for one night.” His voice was so heated, Darcy pulled him in for another kiss. She could kiss him forever, she thought. She was so focused on him, she didn’t immediately realize that someone had broken into her apartment until she saw a flash of moving red in her peripheral vision.

“Ahem,” Natasha said, smiling.

“Goddammit, Romanoff,” Brock said.

“You could answer your phone,” she said mildly. “Or mention that you moved. I frightened Agent Hughes.”

“I hate my fucking job,” he said, with such vehemence that Natasha blinked. Darcy sighed and helped him buckle his pants. “I’m sorry,” Brock said to her more tenderly.

“It’s okay,” Darcy said. “We have plenty of time.” He gave her a yearning look, cleared his throat, and announced he was getting his go-bag.

"I will wait," Nat said. Brock disappeared into the bedroom, looking grim.

“You are making dumplings?” Nat said, eyeing the kitchen counter.

“Ravioli,” Darcy said, getting up to wipe up the broken egg. Nat helped her. “Thanks,” Darcy said. Brock came out of the bedroom with an aggrieved expression. “I think I can finish these by myself,” she told him. He kissed the top of her head.

“Sorry. Call Ma if you have trouble. Just don’t adopt Cary Grant without me,” he said. “I want to make sure he’s not scared of men.”

“Of course not,” Darcy said. “Who wants a cupcake for the road? Natasha?”

“Yes,” Natasha said, before Darcy presented her with one of them. She blinked again.

“Thank you for that,” Brock said, kissing Darcy another time.

“You’re welcome, love you, shoot lots of Nazis,” she told him. He nuzzled her, sighed, and followed Nat out. Darcy shut the door. In the hallway, she heard Natasha’s voice.

“Cary Grant?” she said.

“She wants a Boston Terrier,” Brock said. “Both of ‘em wear tuxes.”

“This is a charming idea,” Nat said. “Thor will be delighted. Why do you have penis cupcakes?”

“A misunderstanding--” Brock’s glum-sounding voice faded away.

 

***

 

Once she was alone, Darcy looked at the box of cupcakes and sighed. “Welp, I guess you’re the only one I’m getting tonight.” Then she decided to call Loki and see if he knew anything about pasta machines or wanted to learn. He shimmered into her kitchen as she was debating a second cupcake.

“What”--he paused dramatically--”fresh hell is that?”

“Oh, you’ve been reading Dorothy Parker?” Darcy asked.

“I like her quite a lot,” he said.

“Very good,” Darcy said, nodding. When she explained to him what had happened, he looked at her incredulously.

"Why do this tiresome work when we can go to a restaurant?" he asked.

"Okey dokey," Darcy said, wrapping her dough to refrigerate it. According to Angela's instructions, it would keep for a day. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are some entertaining penis cupcakes on Pinterest. Really.


	15. Fifteen on a Scale of 1 to 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

Darcy and Loki went to a restaurant that night and then called Jane to see if she’d like to come, too. Thor was gone with the SHIELD team. “Finally! How upset are you?” Jane asked, when Darcy explained that she and Brock had been fooling around when he’d been called away.

“On a scale of 1 to 10? I’m at--” Darcy began.

“Fifteen,” Loki supplied gleefully. Jane howled with laughter.

“Shut up, this is not funny. I do not appreciate,” Darcy said. “I want my Italian cream cake.” She sighed.

“How big a piece? Have you seen the size of the piece yet?” Jane said.

“Noooooooo. Let’s talk about something else. You, wedding. You, baby,” she said, pointing at each of them.

“Tried once today--wait, no twice,” Jane supplied. “It sucks not to have wine, though.” Darcy started to laugh.

“Welcome to the world of sleeplessness and zero vino, Miss ‘I Got Mine Twice,’ you’re going to live here awhile,” Darcy joked. “How long is Asgardian gestation?” Darcy asked. Loki snorted.

“Please don’t say a year and a half!” Jane said.

“All right, I won’t,” Loki said. Darcy caught something in his expression when she looked at him.

“What?” she said. He frowned, twitched, and then rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Jack and I had a small...dispute about flowers before he left,” Loki said.

“What?” Jane said.

“Define small dispute,” Darcy said.

“A bloody screaming match,” Loki said. “He wants these dreadful Australian weeds. They’re hideous. They look like Banner on a bad day! Huge and hideous.”

“You are terrible,” Jane said.

“Yes, but you love me anyway,” he said, winking. “But how do I solve this problem?”

“Tell him you’re allergic?” Jane suggested.

“Or, I dunno, maybe tell him you hate them?” Darcy said.

“You are absurd,” Loki said. “You will never maintain a relationship if you go around being honest all the time.”

“I will, too. Besides, sex was our issue. Other than that, we get along wonderfully,” Darcy said.

“Famous last words,” Jane said.

 

Midway through the meal, she started to look pale. “You okay?” Darcy asked, worried. Jane looked...not right.

“Uh,” Jane said, putting a hand over her mouth. “I gotta go!” She bolted from the table and ran for the bathroom. As Darcy stood up to follow her, thinking it was bad tofu, Loki looked sly.

“What?” she said.

“The initial sign of Asgardian gestation,” he said slowly, “is quite severe nausea.”

“You’re freaking kidding me! She got pregnant this fast?!” Darcy said. Too loudly. People at the other table stared.

“No,” Loki said, chuckling. “I am not.”

“Holy hell,” Darcy said. “I am so glad I never accepted any of Fandral’s advances--”

“For multiple reasons, I would imagine,” he murmured, as Darcy hot-footed it to the bathroom to help hold Jane’s hair while she yorked. She found Jane praying to the porcelain gods. Fervently.

“I think I’m dead,” Jane moaned.

“You’re not dead.”

“Yes I am,” Jane insisted.

“Nope,” Darcy said, grinning.

“I--yahhhhh--” Jane said, as she vomited again. Darcy helped hold her hair back, making soothing sounds. “What is wrong with me?” Jane said, sounding weepy.

“Girl, you are prego,” Darcy said. “Prego like an Eggo. Loki told me. This is Asgardian gestation. That sperm got to your egg faster than Heimdall crosses the BiFrost when he sees an invisible pasty elf.”

“Oh my Godddddddd,” Jane said. "You're joking?"

“Nope. I am not." She was grinning. "You’re having a baby! My babies and me,” Darcy singsonged. 

“Shut up,” Jane said grimly. “And get out, if there is going to be singing.”

“I have wet wipes and peppermints?” Darcy said.

“You can stay,” Jane said.

“Yay!” Darcy said. “Which one do you want first?”

"Pepper--ughhhhh!" 

The three of them were walking across the street in a cluster to make sure Jane got to the car okay, when Darcy felt a yank, as if someone was pulling her hair. “Ow, what the heck--?” she began, looking up above her head. It was all shimmery in the sky.

“Oh, no,” Loki said, "oh no." That was when Darcy realized they were being pulled upwards to the BiFrost. Darcy held tightly to Jane as they spun weightlessly through space.

 

***

Odin stared down at them from the throne. His expression was enraged. “Father,” Loki began.

“Silence!” the king yelled. Darcy backed up, automatically pulling Jane with her. Loki gave them a tiny nod. There was a phalanx of guards in the room. “Am I to understand you intend to be married on Midgard?” Odin said.

“Yes, father,” Loki said politely.

“This goes against my will,” Odin said. “I forbid it.” He glared.

“With all due respect, you cannot forbid--” Loki began.

“As the All-Father, I very much can!” Odin, roared, standing up. He stomped and paced around the throne. “And Heimdall has informed me that you are carrying the child of my other son. You, a goat!” Odin said, pointing at Jane. “Both my sons have betrayed me!”

“Father--” Loki said, more pleadingly.

“You shall suffer punishment for disrespecting my authority,” Odin announced ominously. He’d stopped pacing. Darcy swallowed.

“Get help,” she told Loki.

“You cannot do that one,” Loki said.

“The other one--the real one! Go!” Darcy said, grabbing Jane’s arm.

“Guards!” Odin yelled. With a sad look at her, Loki melted away and Darcy and Jane were surrounded by the Einherjar. “Put them in the dungeons,” Odin said, stomping out of the throne room.

 

***

 

“Loki will get Thor,” Darcy said reassuringly, once they were placed in a cell together. “Although I don’t know why I’m here? Why am I here?” she said through the bars. “What are my charges?!” She ran her bracelet along the edge, so that it clanged annoyingly. The guard looked seriously at her, then consulted a scroll.

“Participating in the planning of a wedding that is forbidden by the All-Father,” he said.

“And what is the punishment for that?” Jane said.

“A century of imprisonment,” the guard said. They looked at each other in horror.

"I demand an attorney!" Jane yelled.

"A what?" the guard said.

“I’m never getting laid,” Darcy said, slumping down on the jail mattress and starting to cry. “I’ll never taste Italian cream cake!” she wailed. “I’ll be old and he’ll be--he’ll be way old!”  

“Loki will get Thor,” Jane said, trying to calm her this time. “It’ll be okay.” She patted Darcy’s hair awkwardly. Staying calm was usually Darcy’s thing, leaving Jane free to anxiety spiral. “How did he even know I was pregnant?” she wondered aloud. Darcy sniffled and wiped her eyes.

“Heimdall is better than EPT?” she said, tears sliding down her face. “Bastard Odin.”

 


	16. A New Addition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos! This one's for everyone reading "Blood Moon, Dry Country" this week and feeling all...'what's that in my eye?' about the ending.

Loki shimmered into being as the SHIELD team took down the last terrorist. There was a volley of gunfire, an _oof_ as Steve’s SHIELD connected with the chest of a guy who was trying to bring back the Austro-Hungarian empire by force, and then Loki cleared his throat. “Brother?” he said tentatively. Thor was high-fiving Steve and didn’t see him.

“It was a great battle, Captain. Where is the Emperor of the Hapsburgs?” Thor asked curiously.

“Well, uh,” Steve said, “it was a bit before my time--”

“Brother!” Loki said more loudly. Several people turned, including Thor.

“Loki, you have missed the battle. It is too bad,” Thor said.

“There’ll be another one,” Steve said calmly.

“Nevermind that, we have a situation,” Loki said. “Father has kidnapped Jane and Darcy.”

“What?” Thor said.

“What did you say?” Rumlow said, jogging over from where’d been cuffing someone. He’d overheard on comms. Jack waved at Loki.

“He disapproves of my marriage and intends to punish us for disrespect. Also, Jane is pregnant,” Loki said, lifting a hand to Jack gingerly. He looked embarrassed. “Father is rather irate about this as well.”

“She is?” Thor asked, beaming.

“Darcy sent me for help. I am sorry you had to find out like this--”

“I will go and get them back,” Thor said, still beaming. “Jane is pregnant already! My Jane excels in all things,” he told Steve. “I do not see why Father cannot see it.”

“Congratulations,” Steve said.

“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Rumlow said. Jack was strolling over.

“My father has kidnapped Jane and Darcy,” Loki repeated. "I am sorry."

 

***

 

In the dungeons, Darcy heard a noise and sat up. Jane was dozing. “Jane! Jane, wake up!” Darcy said in a whisper. “Someone’s coming!”

“Whu--?” Jane said, before someone melted out of the darkness. A tall woman.

“Sif?” Darcy said, relieved it wasn’t Odin, an elf, a torturer, or anyone else, really.

“You are uninjured?” the Asgardian asked. Behind her were Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun. Fandral winked at Darcy.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “But hungry. I’ve got Cheetos I’m hoarding for a later date. We already ate my Raisinettes.”

“And you are pregnant, we hear,” Fandral whispered, grinning broadly at Jane.

“Shh,” Volstagg said.

“We are here to help you escape,” Hogun explained calmly. “Fandral knows the way.”

“Sort of. I have a general idea,” Fandral said.

“You?” Jane said, then clapped a hand over her mouth guiltily. “Sorry,” Jane said, as Sif hid her smile and broke the latch on their cell.

“It’s quite all right,” Fandral said mildly. “It isn’t even my plan, it’s Loki’s plan. Jane, you’ve got out this way before, only you were unconscious at the time. It was while you were here during the Convergence.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. “I missed that. The slap.”

“It was very impressive,” Sif said, “come along.” They passed several concussed guards and Fandral helped Jane over one prone man in a large helmet.

“Wouldn’t do to trip over him,” he said with gallant courtesy.

 

“A flying boat through _that?”_ Darcy said, incredulous, staring at the rapidly approaching crevice.

“Yes, I believe so,” Fandral said. He was helping her steer as the three other warriors fought off boats of palace guards. “Good luck,” Fandral, said, cloak billowing picturesquely. “For Asgard!” he shouted, leaping into the nearest boat to delay their pursuers. Jane rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know when he met Errol Flynn, but I’m sure it happened sometime,” Jane said.

“Do you remember that?” Darcy asked Jane, gesturing to the rock face.

“Vaguely,” Jane said, frowning. She took the tiller. “Get in the center and keep your arms in,” she said grimly. “It’s a squeeze.”

“Okey dokey,” Darcy said. “Where does this lead again?”

“Svartalfheim,” Jane yelled, as the sides of their flying boat scraped the walls. It made a terrible creaking sound and Darcy couldn’t breathe, afraid it would come apart at the seams. A moment later, they had landed with a jolt on the other side of the crevice-slash-hidden realm portal.

“Holy shit,” Darcy said, looking around. “Are you okay?” she said, turning back to Jane.

“Yeah,” Jane said, getting up and dusting off her clothes. The pieces of their flying boat were a little damaged, but they were okay.

“This is...grim dark,” Darcy said. Svartalfheim looked like a coal heap or something. She dug around in her purse. “Well,” she said. “Here goes nothing.” She’d gotten out her cell phone to send a group text.

“Do you think you have cell service?” Jane asked.

“Can’t hurt to try, can it?” Darcy said sensibly. “I don’t see bars, though.” She made a face.

“We look for the portal hole that Thor and I used to leave, which should take us back to London,” Jane explained. She looked around. “This way...I think?” she said. Her stomach growled audibly.

“Should I open the Cheetos now or later?” Darcy asked.

“Now,” Jane said. “Please?”

“Of course,” Darcy said. They walked along, looking for the cave Jane remembered. “I can’t believe the Dark Elves wanted everything to look like this,” she told Jane. “Not even one nice park? Cheeto?”

“God, yes,” Jane said, taking a Cheeto.

 

***

 

“I hate that fucking place. I’m getting her out of there and we’re never coming back,” Brock told Jack, as the group prepared to invade Asgard as a rescue party. They were getting supplies off the SHIELD quinjet. “Do you have those high-capacity clips that Hill sent us? With the armor-piercing bullets?”

“I don’t think we’ll actually be shooting anyone, Thor thinks he can talk to his dad, mate,” Jack said mildly.

“Bullshit,” Brock said, strapping on a bulletproof vest. “The Crackpot Santa King kidnapped his pregnant girl, that crosses a line of fuckery, right there. Sonofabitch, I regret thinking that place was cool. I wish I never heard of it.”

“Sure, mate,” Jack said.

“You know, you’re very annoying when you’re calm like this, I think I liked you better when you were pretending to be rabidly HYDRA and acted like you wanted to shoot everybody,”  Brock grumbled.

“You guys ready?” Steve asked, coming around a corner.

“Yeah,” Brock said flatly.

“Sure, Cap,” Jack said. Steve rubbed his hands together and grinned.

“This is my first trip to Asgard. Buck will be so jealous I’ve been without him. He always loved that science fiction stuff when we were kids,” Steve said. Bucky was in Wakanda.

“How is Barnes?” Jack asked.

“Doing good. He’s raising some goats at the moment. Sent me a photo of the kids the other day. He named the orneriest one after me, calls him Punk,” Steve said. Jack grinned. Captain America’s whole face had lit up. “Did you want to see a photo?”

“Sure, Cap,” Jack said.

“Where’s Romanoff?” Brock asked brusquely. He was in no mood to talk about goats. Also, he felt a little pissed off at everything: missions, Odin, terrorists, that Captain America had already seen Darcy naked and he hadn’t. It was a long list.

“She’s staying behind to be ground support here,” Steve said.

The group assembled in the nearest open space. “What’s this like?” Steve said.

“Glorious,” Thor said. “Heimdall!”

“Nauseating,” Brock muttered, as they were lifted off their feet. They ended up in the gold room again. Heimdall was gazing at them with a wry expression.

“Are they well?” Thor asked.

“They are very safe at the moment, but your father wishes to speak with you both,” Heimdall said. Brock watched him with narrowed eyes as they left. He stomped down the BiFrost.

Steve whistled at his first glimpse of Asgard. “Can I take a photo for Bucky?”

“Aye, my friend,” Thor said.  “Will he be impressed?”

“I think so,” Steve said, as they walked to the throne room and he snapped photos. Odin was sitting on the throne, looking grim.

“My sons have come to eject me from the throne,” he said. “All around me, a circle of betrayal.”

“Father, we have no wish to eject you. We merely ask the return of Jane and Darcy,” Thor said gently.

“Those vexing women! How I regret stranding you on Midgard. Things were going so well before then. Your mother was alive…” Odin said, more to himself.

“You mean when he was picking fights with Jotunheim and you lied to me about my true parentage?” Loki said, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Odin said. “A better era. Now you run around looking at wedding flowers and greenery!”

“Ah, yes,” Loki said, sighing.

“You hate the greenery?” Jack said. “I like eucalyptus.”

“It smells funny and it reminds me of Banner,” Loki said, without making eye contact.

“Okay,” Jack said mildly. “No eucalyptus then.”

“Look, I just want my girlfriend back,” Brock said, stepping closer to the throne. “Just give her back and I’ll go. You can work out your family issues and your greenery issues without me and Darcy.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that--” Odin began, before there was a noise behind them. A woman clearing her throat.

“Yes, you have bigger fish to fry, don’t you, Father?” she said. She was wearing an impressively menacing helmet, Jack thought.

“Father?” Thor said.

“Oh dear,” Loki said, “I was afraid of this.”

“She is your sister,” Odin explained.

“She’s not dead?” Thor said.

“No,” Hela said. “Merely locked away until his powers sufficiently weakened. Which they have because he is a senile idiot who refuses to eat and sleep and bathe himself.” She wrinkled her nose, sniffing.

“Is that what that is?” Steve whispered to Jack. “I thought this place was a little moldy?”

“I am not senile!” Odin roared.

“You do seem a little--” Thor began, then paused. He looked at his brother and mouthed _help._

“Very stressed?” Loki offered.

“Yes, yes, quite stressed,” Thor said. “How--how did you get here?” he asked Hela carefully. There had been no sounds of battle, no alarm.

“Heimdall let me in. I have every right to be here. I am the eldest, am I not?” Hela asked.

“Really? You do not look a day over eight hundred,” Loki said smoothly, stepping in front of Jack. “And your helmet is spectacular,” he added. She looked at him with narrowed, clever eyes for a long moment, then smiled.

“Oh, how sweet of you. I like him, Father. He has something of me in him, even given his ambiguous parentage. How interesting. Not like you,” Hela said, gesturing to Thor. “You’re so….blonde. And cheerful.” She wrinkled her nose again, looking for all the world like an appalled cat eyeing a too-enthusiastic golden retriever.

“Just what do you intend to do?” Odin said, sighing and sitting down on the throne.

“At first, I was going to fulfill the prophecy, Ragnarok, rule Asgard, drive the Nine Realms to their knees, etc.,” she said, gesturing airily. “You know how good I am at leading armies, it’s my primary life skill.” She circled the throne room, peering at things. Steve’s hold on his shield tightened.

“Very useful,” Loki said. “Some of us never get the hang of it.”

“So, I’m informed,” Hela said, “if I had been around to mentor you better...but nevermind that. Heimdall informs me that neither of you intend to live on Asgard? You both have little Midgardian sweeties and that leaves the throne practically open for me, anyway?” she asked.

“Yes,” Thor said, “we’re really only here for holidays and special occasions.”

“Birthdays, things like that,” Loki said. “I quite prefer Midgard, really. The coffee is spectacular.”

“People down there really like me,” Thor added. “And my girlfriend is pregnant, so we really need to be in her primary care network.”

“Pregnant?” Hela said, perking up. “I’m going to be an aunt?”

“We wouldn’t have you miss it,” Loki said politely.  

“Could I host a shower and buy the wee one those those little booties?” she asked, running a hand around a golden column.

“Of course,” Thor said, his voice a little desperate. He was calculating his distance from Jane and the baby vis-a-vis a Goddess of Death.

“I bet that made you very unhappy,” she told Odin.

“The only reason we’re even here is because father kidnapped his Jane and her assistant,” Loki said. “Otherwise, we’d be having a normal Midgardian day.” He held his palms out flatly. “Really, we’re quite content to take them and go home. Jack and I”--he gestured to Jack behind him--”have a wedding to plan, Thor and Jane are busy….” Hela frowned.

“No,” she said, “I don’t think you should go yet. There are still some unresolved family dilemmas, aren’t there?”

“Loki,” Thor said warningly. He thought Hela might want to kill them all.

“I think we need a conclave,” Hela said.

“I do not consent to a conclave!” Odin yelled. “I am still king.”

“Barely,” Hela said. “Father, you’re holding on by a thread. You need...soap.”

“What the fuck is a conclave?” Brock whispered.

“We come to a decision on succession,” Hela said.

“Like a family meeting?” Jack said.

“Or those group therapy sessions that Sam runs?” Steve said.

“Group what?” she said. She looked at Jack. “He really is very handsome,” she purred.

“Hands off, he’s mine,” Loki said sharply.

“Ooooh, he is jealous,” Hela said.

“Very,” Thor said, chuckling.

“Group therapy is where you, uh, sit and talk about your feelings peacefully,” Steve explained. “No violence, just talk.”

“Well, that would make a change,” Hela said. “I am tired of subsuming my feelings into stabbing people and invading realms, Father.”

“It does get dreary, doesn’t it?” Loki said.

“See? He knows,” Hela said. “Someone understands me, finally.” She took Loki’s offered arm and for a moment, he stared at her helmet, a little awestruck.

“I really do enjoy that. You must wear it to the wedding,” he said. She smiled and patted a sharp antler.

“I designed it myself, not that _he_ ever appreciated my aesthetic, except that it frightened people. He was always telling me to smile more when he wasn’t talking over me,” Hela said. She glared at Odin. “Come along, Father, it’s your fault I was deprived of brothers. We’re doing group therapy now,” Hela said. “You're going to tell me who my mother actually is. Also, I want my dog back.”

“He is the fiercest war wolf in Asgardian history!” Odin said, his expression appalled.

“He’s still my dog,” Hela said. “He’s really not all that dangerous, he just enjoys having a job. Besides, he will like playing with Thor,” she told Loki.

“Won’t I be playing with him?” Thor said, looking hopeful. He liked dogs.

“Not at Fenrir’s size,” Hela said.

“Oh, a good-sized dog then?” Jack said.

“Sturdy enough to ride,” Hela said. “Also, very fond of fetch.”

“So, he’ll bring Thor back? How charming,” Loki said. Hela laughed. They went into a separate room.

 

“What the fuck is happening?” Brock said to Steve.

“Family bonding?” Steve offered wryly.

“How is this normally organized, group therapy?” Hela asked Steve. He smiled, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

“You’ve got to, uh, put all these chairs in a circle and there’s usually coffee and donuts,” Steve said.

“Donuts?” Hela said. “What is a donut?”

“They are delicious. The first time I had one, I threw my coffee mug on the floor as a sign of my appreciation,” Thor said. “But that is considered offensive on Midgard, so I apologized to Darlene at the diner later, of course. And replaced her coffee mug.”

“Oh,” Hela said. “That sounds very...interesting.” She leaned in towards Loki. “Is he just a very large toddler?” she asked.

 

***

 

“Here is it,” Jane said, spotting the right cave. “I think?” she added. “It looks the same?” She climbed into the cave carefully, using her phone as a flashlight.

“Good, because that was the last Cheeto,” Darcy said, following her. She stuffed the bag back in her purse. She wasn’t going to litter, even in Dark Elf-landia.

“Yeah, this is it. Look, there’s our stuff!” Jane said excitedly. “All the stuff you and Ian and those kids threw! If we just follow this, we should be fine….”

“Man, that was a long time ago. Thank you, non-biodegradables,” Darcy snarked, stepping over the little toy ball and odds and ends: change, a few playing cards, a pen. She hoped there were no elf-bats in this cave.

“Here it is,” Jane said, pointing to a section of cave wall that looked a bit wobbly, like an underdone cake. She reached for Darcy’s hand. “Go together, on three?” she asked.

“No time like the present,” Darcy said, holding Jane’s hand.

“1--2-3!” they said in unison, sticking their feet in. There was a whooshing, sucking sound, like an unclogging pool drain and Darcy was yanked forward into a blur of time and space.

 

“Ooof,” Jane said, catching herself before she stumbled into the sink as they landed in a bathroom. “I feel like I’ve said that too many times today,” she told Darcy. She looked around. “Oh, they turned the warehouse into something new?” she said brightly. There were lights on in the bathroom and a sign about hygiene. “We’re the first humans to escape Asgard alone!” Jane said.

“High-five!” Darcy said. They clapped hands, grinning at each other.

“Should we wash our hands?” Jane said, reading the sign.

“Definitely,” Darcy said, looking at her fingers. “I’m all gross. We should have postponed that high five.” Both of them washed their dirt and Cheetos-stained hands. Darcy was thinking that the bathroom reminded her of something.

“It really looks like--” Darcy began, pushing the door handle and hearing the sound of world music and a burr grinder.

“A Starbucks?” Jane said, looking around and grinning.

“It’s official, everywhere is a Starbucks now,” Darcy said.

“You would have loved this when I was missing for five hours,” Jane said. “Do you want a vanilla latte?”

“Always,” Darcy said. “But you should get decaf. For the baby.”

“My kid is going to be so smart,” Jane said. “We crossed realms while she was in-utero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (This is sort of my wished-for Thor: Ragnarok, inspired by that Tumblr post about Hela growing up with Thor and Loki and eventually kicking Thanos' ass. She's so much fun as the snarky oldest sibling.)


	17. What Do They Call Funfetti in London?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks so much for your comments and kudos!

“Do you have funfetti pancakes?” Darcy asked the waitress. She and Jane had gone immediately for food. Jane had a craving for breakfast foods.

“I’m sorry, no,” the waitress said, “but we do have chocolate chip orange?”

“Okay,” Darcy said. “You want that, too?” she asked Jane. Jane was texting Natasha to pick them up.

“Yes. And strawberry,” Jane added. “Also, bacon and scrambled eggs. God, I’m so hungry! Why am I hungry?” she asked.

“Baby,” Darcy supplied. “Really hungry baby.”

“Congratulations,” the waitress said.

“Thank you,” Jane said, as she left their table. She blinked a little. “Oh my God. That’s the first time I’ve told anyone. I’ve got to call my mom!”

They stuffed themselves silly and texted Nat to meet them at Jane’s mother’s house. “You know,” Darcy said as they walked, “chocolate orange is great, but the lack of funfetti here is why I’m proud to be an American.”

“Shhh,” Jane said. “Don’t provoke an international incident. Oooh, a bakery! Can we go in?”

“Sure,” Darcy said.

  
  


***

 

“I would like to discuss that time when I was four-hundred and twenty-seven and you refused to attend my school magical demonstration,” Loki was saying.

“I bet he went to all of Thor’s jousting matches and bouts,” Hela said.

“Yes! He did!” Loki said.

“Your mother attended! She was the magical expert, I thought it was her area!” Odin said.

“You could have taken an interest,” Steve supplied. Jack nodded. Brock ran a hand through his hair in silent frustration.

“It was always just me and mother.” Loki made a sad face.

“I don’t even know who my mother was, at least you had a buffer from  _ him,”  _ Hela said.

“I told you, you were born of my forehead,” Odin said.

“We all know you stole that nonsense from the Greeks. Who was she? A servant? A favorite?” Hela said. She and Loki exchanged glances.

“I felt rather guilty about your favoritism,” Thor said. “It created tension between us as brothers. And we didn’t even know her.”

“It’s the centuries of secrecy that really erode trust,” Loki said.

“Because you can’t have emotional intimacy without trust,” Jack interjected. Steve nodded.

“Trust is the foundation of good relationships,” Steve said.

“You can shut it anytime, Cap,” Rumlow said. Steve looked surprised.

“What?”

“You mistreated my girl. You fooled around with her and didn’t want to go public, like some kind of a creep, so don’t sit in the circle and talk about trust like you’re all fucking evolved!” Rumlow said. He had gotten more heated at the end.

“Anything else?” Jack asked.

“Yes, okay? Yes. This old bat kidnaps her— _ for no reason— _ and I’m stuck in the circle with you assholes and I was supposed to be making ravioli and finally getting to see her naked. Finally! I’m tired, I’m pissed, and I’m still a little horny, all right? Just give me Darcy and let me out of this fucking realm!” Brock said.

“I thought you were living together?” Steve said, baffled.

“We are. I just happen to be taking it slow, okay? You’ve had sex with her and I haven’t. Happy, Captain Dirtbag America?” Brock said.

“How slow?” Hela whispered to Loki.

“Months,” he said, grinning, “which is like centuries our time.”

“Ohh,” she said. “He’s very tightly wound.”

“I am not,” Brock said stubbornly, “I’m just in love, Elvira. I love Darcy, she’s my—my person. We’re getting a little dog and we’re gonna be the happiest fucking couple.”

“I would give her and Jane Foster back,” Odin said slowly, “very gladly. Very gladly indeed.”

“But?” Loki said.

“I cannot,” he said.

“What?” Thor said. There was a series of upset interjections and simultaneous talking.

“I am afraid they have already escaped,” Odin said. “Several hours ago, they became the first Midgardians to escape Asgard’s dungeon.” 

“Did I not say Jane was extraordinary in all things?” Thor said cheerfully.

“You’ve lost them?” Hela and Loki said unison.

“What the fuck?” Brock said out loud.

 

There was a minor kerfuffle until someone thought to consult Heimdall and he came into the room for a moment. “I am all-seeing,” he said to Thor wryly, “shouldn’t I be consulted first? They managed to escape Asgard to Svartalfheim by means unknown,” Heimdall said, golden eyes glinting.

“She remembered your trick, despite her unconsciousness and aetherization, brother,” Thor said to Loki proudly.

“Whereupon they ventured forth to London. At present, they are having pancakes and Agent Romanoff is en route to rendezvous with them and return them to Washington,” Heimdall finished. “All is well.” He departed to return to his post.

“Jesus Christ,” Brock muttered.

“Now,” Hela said, “we will discuss the matter of Loki and Jack’s wedding which will be happening here at the palace.” Odin sputtered. “Or I shall put you into Odinsleep. Forcibly,” Hela added.

“Thank you,” Loki said, taking Jack’s hand.

“I think that is an excellent idea. Loki should be married here,” Thor said.

“When can we get out of here?” Brock grumbled to Steve.

“And another thing we need to discuss is how you treated Frigga,” Hela said. “Add it to the list, Jack.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jack said. He was in charge of the list.

  
  


***

 

“Natasha!” Darcy said, when she opened the door of the townhouse. Jane and her mom were laughing and talking in the kitchen. “Come meet Jane’s mom, Helen’s also a genius,” Darcy said. 

“That does not surprise me,” Nat said. “I brought champagne.” She gestured to the bottle in her hand.

“Excellent! Guys, Nat’s here and she brought celebratory bubbly!” Darcy called. They trooped into the kitchen. Helen looked up and smiled.

“Wonderful, I’m so excited to meet you,” Helen told Nat, “champagne for everyone! Except you, Jane. I’m Helen. I teach literature.”

“Oh, I’d like to hear about that,” Nat said. “I love books.”

“You do?” Jane said.

“I do,” Nat said. “Darcy and I do book club occasionally. We’ve been reading  _ The Master and Margarita _ ,” she explained.

“You just refuse to participate,” Darcy said.

“Excellent book,” Helen said.

“Jane, do you want juice?” Darcy asked, getting glasses. 

“Would you be interested in helping me curate a list of novels that include female spies?” Helen asked Nat, rapt with attention. “I’m trying to course plan for the upcoming semester and I want to do a different seminar.”

  
  


***

 

By the time Heimdall sent them back via BiFrost some ten hours later, Brock was thoroughly exhausted. “I’ll drop you off at Darcy’s, Nat brought her back a few hours ago,” Steve said, looking up from his phone. His serum kept him from being as sleep-deprived as either Brock or Jack. 

“Yeah,” Brock said, yawning and wishing that he’d gotten the good Erskine juice and not cut-rate HYDRA imitations. Darcy had texted him. She was home. Browsing Petfinder for Bostons and apparently a little buzzed, if the number of cute sex emojis meant anything. They trudged to a SHIELD vehicle. Steve looked at him as he drove.

“I’m sorry about Darcy,” Steve said. “I really am.”

“She’s not mad at you.”

“No?”

“I am, though,” Brock said. Steve chuckled. 

“We’ve had our differences,” he said.  “Have I apologized for that elevator ceiling yet?”

“You were supposed to go with me so I could smuggle you to Maria, you hard-headed asshole. You can’t read the context clue of  _ it’s not personal?”  _ Brock grumbled.

“Whoops,” Steve said.

  
  


***

 

When Brock stumbled sleepily into the apartment, he found Darcy already in bed. “Hey,” she said, opening her eyes. “You’re back,” she murmured. “What happened?”

“I sat through a Steve-led group therapy session with Thor, Loki, Odin and their sister,” Brock said, taking off his shirt.

“Sister? I thought she was dead?” Darcy said, shocked.

“Nope. It’s a long story,” he said, crawling into bed and kissing her. “I was missing you, though.”

“I know! I was really scared I’d be stuck up there, like, forever,” Darcy said, running her fingers through his hair. She kissed him again. “And we’d never get to fool around,” she added.

“I wasn’t going to miss that,” he said, cuddling her close. A yawn slipped out. She studied his face and smiled.

“We don’t have to tonight, if you’re tired?” Darcy said gently.

“Oh, thank God,” Brock said, kissing her forehead. “You’re my favorite person in the world and I really want to have sex with you, but I’m dead on my feet and I have the world’s worst fucking headache.”

“That bad, huh?” Darcy said.

“Jack started a list of all the issues under discussion. It’s twenty-five pages,” Brock said, wiggling Darcy closer. "I'm so glad I'm home and you're home."

 


	18. Terrible Difficulty with the Centerpieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing! Thanks for all your comments and kudos!

She woke him up with kisses. “Hey,” he said, opening his eyes slowly. “What time is it?” He grinned at her. There was a little smudge on her glasses and her curls were wild. Darcy grinned back.

“Time for me to get in your pants,” she said. He laughed, curling his hands around her waist.

“I’m okay with that,” he said.

“Yeah?” she said.

“I’ve thought about this a lot,” he said, expression turning soft.

“Is there something in particular you want to do?” she said.

“I want to…” he paused, thinking, "...start by kissing you a lot.”

“Should we brush our teeth? I totally forgot,” she said.

“I don’t mind,” he said, but followed her into the bathroom anyway. He was kissing her neck as she brushed her teeth when he looked over.

“What?” she said.

“I’m adding bathtub to the list of eventual sex places,” he said, cheerfully stealing her toothbrush. He squeezed her. “Get back in bed,” he said.

 

“Wait,” Darcy said, when they’d been kissing.

“What’s wrong?” he said.

“Do I get to kiss you a lot?” she asked.

“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” he said.

“Hmmm, there’s places I want to explore,” she told him. “Like here. And maybe here.” Her hands explored his body. “Roll over for me?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, kissing her lightly, then shifting onto his belly. She giggled. “What?” he said, looking over his shoulder. She was running her hands over his back.

“It’s allllllll mine,” she said.

“You know it,” he said.

“Brock, where’s Stuey?” she said.

“You’re just going to have to woo it out of me,” he said. “I need persuasion. Lots and lots of persuasion….”

 

Several hours later, his phone dinged. He checked it, then looked over at her. “You feel like an errand, sweetheart?” he asked.

“Nope,” she said, snuggling against him more firmly, “I want to stay here with you. No leaving, no clothes, nobody else raining on our parade.”

“But this is an errand for you,” he said, kissing her shoulder. “I promise you’ll like it, trust me.”

“You keep saying that today,” she snarked.

“Where’s the lie?” he said.

“Okay, I admit that is accurate,” Darcy said. “Also, you’re surprisingly flexible for someone so muscular.”

“Yeah, I try not to be one of those guys who makes the tendon crunching noise when they lower their biceps like the Terminator in his bodybuilding period,” he joked. His fingers threaded through her damp hair gently. They’d had fun in the bathtub.

“So creepy,” Darcy said, shuddering. “I hate that sound.” He laughed.

“C’mon, run this errand with me,” Brock said coaxingly.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Darcy said. “I will put on pants, but I want my objections registered. Where are we going?” she asked, sitting up and looking in vain for her nightshirt.

“That,” he said, “is a surprise.”

“You sneak,” she said.

“You taught me everything I know,” he said dryly. “C’mon, fun coach.”

“Are we going to get Stuey?” Darcy said.

“Nope,” he said.

 

She was very glad she went, as it transpired. It was fun. Her fun acolyte was the best. Even if she still didn’t have Stuey...

 

***

 

They were asleep a night or two later when there was a clatter in the apartment. Brock sat bolt upright and went for the gun he kept in a box in the nightstand. “Stay here,” he told Darcy in a low voice. She nodded. He left the bed and crept out to the living room. He was raising his gun when a familiar voice spoke.

“Please don’t shoot, it’s only me.”

“Jesus Christ, Loki,” Brock said, flipping on the light. Loki was holding his arms up in surrender pose. “I thought you were still on Asgard.”

“Just back. I am sorry, I thought you’d be awake, it is only eleven forty-two,” Loki said.

“We’ve been on a different schedule,” Brock said, yawning. “You need to talk to Darcy?” She and Loki’d been wedding planning by text. It was a constant rat-tat-tat of back and forth of texts. Darcy had changed her notification sound to telegraph for her own amusement. Brock gathered that Hela was even more into this wedding deal than Loki. There had been talk of flaming centerpieces. She apparently thought fires were pretty? Jack had to gently explain that _flaming_ had different connotations on Asgard, but Brock was relieved that he wouldn’t be tasked with putting out any guests in the future. He led Loki into the bedroom. “He and Jack are back--” he said.

“You woke up the baby,” Darcy said scoldingly. “He was sleeping good, Loki.”

“What in all the Nine Realms is that?”  Loki said, pointing to the animal in her lap. It wagged it’s stump of a tail.

“Cary Grant,” Darcy and Brock said in unison.

“Reincarnated?” Loki said.

“No, no. This is a Boston Terrier. A dog. He’s three and a half months old, very intelligent--” Darcy began.

“He’s supposed to look squished like that?” Loki said. Brock was putting on sweatpants and a t-shirt. Darcy glared.

“He is not squished, he is dapper,” Darcy said. “And you’ve interrupted his schedule and my attempts to puppywise him.”

“What?” Loki said, baffled.

“There’s a book called _Babywise_ about getting them to eat and sleep on schedule, she’s adapting it for dogs,” Brock said, looking up from where he was tying his shoelaces. “I’ll take him out,” he said, scooping the puppy over his forearm. He gathered a collar and leash, the training clicker, and the tiny treat bag from near the dog’s crate next to the bed.

“You could try his puppy pads,” Darcy said. “So you don’t have to go out?”

“No, I wouldn’t want my dapper son not to experience the streets,” Brock said dryly. “C’mon, son, let’s see if we can get you to pee and maybe spot a drug deal.”  Darcy listened to him leave the apartment, grinning.

“He pretends he doesn’t love that dog, but I caught him giving Cary kisses the other day,” Darcy told Loki. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

“I’m still having a terrible difficulty with centerpieces,” Loki said, sighing. “Did I tell you that my father wants everything gold now? It’s wholly devastated our theme colors, but Jack and Hela insist that I need to reward him for making an effort…..”

 

 

-The End-

 

  

“Where does this thing go?” Sif asked, staring at the ice sculpture of a smiling Loki and Jack. “And what is it?”

“In the freezer,” Fandral said. “Tomorrow they’ll put it in the gardens. I believe these ice sculptures are common at Midgardian wedding ceremonies?”

“But this is just an engagement dinner,” Sif said, confused.

“Best not to ask questions,” Hogun said in a low voice, cutting his eyes towards Odin and Hela a few feet away. They were arguing about whether or not she should have been allowed to play the violin instead of with knives. People were hanging banners and setting out tables for tomorrow’s event.

“Princess Hela wanted an ice sculpture. I heard her say this is a test run for Fenrir’s birthday party next week,” Volstagg said, coming over. “There’ll be a lot of jerky at that party. Looking forward to it.”

“Really?” Sif said. “A party for her dog?”

“Shhhhh,” Hogun said. “She loves that wolf.”

 

 

_Stuey and Cary Grant Will Return for an Asgardian Wedding...Probably_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How could Loki say that about a baby Boston? So cutesies!
> 
>  


End file.
